Remember
by Mione3
Summary: Hermione wakes up from a coma and has no idea who she is or anything prior to that day? Will she remember? FINISHED Please review!
1. Prologue

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Chapter 1: Prologue  
  
On a beautiful April morning in the busy London Memorial Hospital a nurse was making his rounds in the coma ward on the fourth floor. Checking pulses, bed pans and IV drips were a normal part of his day. His name was Adam and he had been working in this ward for nearly four months. Although every patient was important to him, he, like most people had one patient that held a special place in his heart. Often times he would return home from a long day at work and tell his wife and kids about the young woman that he cared for. When he approached the young woman in her early twenties that arrived the very week Adam had started his job there he talked to her like usual. "Hi there, Sunshine." He brushed some of her brown, bushy hair off of her face, tucking it behind her ears, and dipping a cloth into warm water he began to wash her face with small gentle strokes.  
  
Adam had taken a particular interest in the young woman because in the months she had spent at the hospital she had not had one single visitor. This was due to the fact that no one knew who the young woman was. The only clue to the woman's identity was a gold necklace around her neck, which held one charm, and a small gold ring on her ring finger on her right hand. The ring was almost certainly a class ring from either high school or college but the school Hogwarts, which was engraved on the ring along with the year 1998, meant nothing to anyone who saw it. The charm was of three letters intertwined, HRH. Since everyone assumed those to be the woman's initials and her arrival in the ward was two days before Christmas, all the staff took to calling her Hollie.  
  
"How have you been today, Hollie?" Adam said to the unconscious girl. He was still cleaning her face with the wash cloth and the warm water. "You are the third person today that I have cleaned up, but I saved the best for last." He was sad to see such a beautiful young woman so alone in the world and he tried to do some research to find her family but came up empty handed. He would often go to the place were she was discovered, a small alley near the museum. He assumed she might have been coming from or going to the museum but questioning the workers there got him nowhere. He also found himself looking in her closet at the torn clothing she arrived in including a plaid skirt, a blouse that at one time must have been white, and a funny looking dark blue robe like thing that was not like the usual coat. According to the tags on the skirt and the blouse they had both come from a well known department store and he was well aware that that would not give him the lead he wanted. The tag on the robe on the other hand might have given him the push he needed but even with all the research he had done, nothing turned up on Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions; it was just another dead end.  
  
He gently squeezed her right hand in his and moved the ring around on her finger. "I will see you tomorrow, Hollie. I do hope you are having sweet dreams." With that, he stood and began exiting the room when he heard a soft moan. He turned on his heal and quickly retraced his steps to the side of her bed with his heart pounding wildly in his chest as if it would burst through at any moment. He grasped her tiny hand in-between his and knelt down beside the bed. To his astonishment he noticed her eyelids begin to flutter and saw her chestnut eyes scanning the room around her. He let out a soft gasp and she turned her head ever so slightly to face him.  
  
"Where am I?" she questioned, her voice barely audible from disuse. She glanced down at her hand that was sandwiched between his and bit her bottom lip in a nervous gesture.  
  
He realized that his mouth was hanging open and that she was searching his eyes for answers when he finally found his voice. "You are in London Memorial Hospital."  
  
"Oh," was her reply. "How long have I been here?"  
  
"Over three months, you got here two days before Christmas. You have been in a coma."  
  
"Three months?" It was more of a statement than a question. She turned her head to the other side to face the window. It was around 6:00 and the sun was just beginning to set allowing a red glow to enter the room and play across her confused face. He noticed her scrunch up her forehead in concentration. "Who am I?" she whispered.  
  
If he had been surprised before he was certainly stunned now. 'She doesn't know who she is?' He thought to himself, 'How horrible'. "We aren't sure. You were found by yourself and with no identification," he began. She turned to face him once again and he noticed the water welling up in her eyes. "You have a necklace on with the letters HRH and a class ring. We have called you Hollie."  
  
"Hollie? That's a pretty name," she answered. "What's your name?"  
  
"My name is Adam. I have been your nurse since you arrived. I am so happy that you are awake."  
  
"Thank you." She began to bite her lip once again and her left hand traveled up to close itself around the charm on the necklace. "What do I do now?"  
  
"Well," he started. "Now you will begin physical therapy and once you are recovered you will be able to leave here." He squeezed her hand and smiled. "I think you should get some rest. I will come see you in the morning." She nodded in reply and he slowly left the room thinking about how to tell this story to his family. Closing the door to the room behind him he observed Hollie still clutching the charm in her left hand and her right hand wiping away the tears that were now flowing freely from her eyes.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"That's it, Hollie! You are doing magnificent!" Adam exclaimed. Adam had been given special permission from the hospital administration to work with her on her therapy. It had been a week since Hollie had awakened and she was walking on her own already with no assistance. He had never seen someone so determined, especially since she was such a petite young woman. Barely 5'3" and 115 pounds soaking wet, she made all of them look like pushovers.  
  
Adam had been told the previous day the Hollie would be leaving the hospital tomorrow as she was ready to be out on her own once again. He had managed to get all the staff to donate money for her to help her get on her feet. With the money he collected he was able to pay for the first months rent on a small furnished flat a couple miles away and a job at a bookstore across the street from the flat. He had noticed that reading was something she enjoyed and thought that working at a bookstore would only be appropriate. Adam had also put together a little surprise party after her therapy that day to bid her a fond farewell.  
  
"Ok, Hollie, that's enough. You are as ready as you could ever be," Adam told her. "Lets head back to your room." On the walk back both were fairly quiet which was unusual because Hollie certainly loved to talk, especially to critique the people around her. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I just can't believe I am leaving in the morning," she answered looking down at her feet, a slight frown playing across her lips. "I am going to miss this place and everyone so much. They have been so kind, especially you." She looked up at him and he could see her eyes mist over as she quickly embraced him in a rib breaking hug. He rubbed her back consolingly trying to reassure her without words that everything would be all right.  
  
She let him go and opened the door to the room that had been hers for the past four months. To her astonishment she saw it filled to capacity with people, presents, balloons, decorations and food. A banner was hanging across the windows that read GOOD LUCK HOLLIE, WE'LL MISS YOU! Her eyes filled with tears once again and her lip trembled slightly. She couldn't believe how nice these people were. She felt an arm go around her shoulders and glancing to the right saw Adam's smiling face.  
  
When the party had finished she had been given the key to her new furnished flat, the time and date to show up for her first day of work at Book Classics, kitchen supplies, clothing for various occasions, books and of course, flowers. She sat down on her bed when the last 'guest' had left and wished she had some clue as to what she was like before she came here. Lying down on her bed she cried herself to sleep, not for the last time. 


	2. Alone

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Chapter 2: Alone  
  
Hollie was walking home from her job on a Friday night and found herself reflecting on her life from the time she left the safety of the hospital. It had been nearly four months and summer was now in full swing being mid July, but she had no desire to take any vacation. Her reasoning was simple, 'I have no one to go with so what is the point'.  
  
She seldom varied from her routine, and when she did it was not by choice. Everyday she would wake up at seven o'clock sharp, eat a small breakfast and exercise before getting ready for the day ahead. Monday through Saturday she spent the entire day across the street from her flat at Book Classics where Adam had been able to get her a job. Most of the time she would be there from opening to closing and even then Mary, the owner, would have to insist that she leave. Sundays she spent reading the books she borrowed from the store and would eat dinner at Adam's home with his family. Those nights were the times when she felt the happiest. She felt at ease with Adam and could relax for those few hours. His children loved to have Hollie over. The oldest, Jennifer, was close to ten and never ceased asking questions, especially about Hollie's incredible story. Kevin, the middle child, had just turned seven and was shy and reserved. He would sit on her lap while Jennifer bombarded her with questions. The baby of the family, Timmy, was a mere three years old and loved to be given piggyback rides. Whenever Hollie would return home on those nights she had to soak in a warm bath to alleviate some of the stress on her back. 'It is only two more days until I get to see them again,' she thought to herself as stepped off the curb and into the street.  
  
Hollie hated the short walk home, the anticipation of entering her empty flat. Opening her door she looked around her small, comfortable apartment. There was nothing out of place, as usual, because she liked everything to be in order. Her living room walls were simplistically white. The furniture was not to her liking but when the flat comes furnished there isn't much that can be done. A small brown couch and matching chair were placed in front of the tiny fireplace with a wooden coffee table and two wooden end tables. The end tables were not visible from the stacks of books and on the coffee table was a chess set, she could not resist buying when she spotted it while window-shopping, and her drawings. Whenever she finished reading an excessively large book or she had to wait until the morning to get a new one, Hollie would find herself doodling. Her sketches always consisted of the same things; lightning bolts; broomsticks; a large castle with many towers; a bow-legged, orange cat with a squashed face and yellow eyes; a tiny, gray owl swallowed up by a large hand; and the knight chess piece. She had no idea why those things had a particular meaning to her but drawing them seemed to make her feel better. No pictures adorned her walls or mantel and no mementos of birthdays, parties, Christmases or other happy times were anywhere to be found. They just simply did not exist which depressed her more than anything else.  
  
She made her way into the kitchen that was off to the left of the living room. The walls were also white and had no decorations what so ever. The kitchen table was up against the wall on the left with four chairs, only one of which had any use. Although she visited Adam on Sundays, not once had she invited him over to her place. With the bare walls and the awkward feeling of the place she did not want anyone, especially him, to be aware of her loneliness. On the right were the stove, refrigerator and counter, all immaculate. Opening the refrigerator, Hollie took out lunchmeat, cheese and mayonnaise along with some lettuce and tomato. She then went to the breadbox and removed two slices of wheat bread. This was her normal dinner during the week, the only variation being the choice between ham, turkey and roast beef.  
  
When 'dinner' was finished it was nearly nine o'clock. Deciding to go to sleep early she went into her bedroom. Unlike the other rooms, this room had color and reflected her personality. The room was done in a soft yellow with matching curtains and wall-to-wall beige carpeting. The bed was placed on the wall opposite the window and was covered in a pale yellow comforter with a red floral pattern. When she saw that comforter in the store she fell in love with it immediately and decorated the rest of the room to match. The dresser and night tables were the same make as the ones in her living room, having come with the flat. She went over to her dresser and extracted her pajamas. Hollie then moved to the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom to follow her nightly ritual. Her bathroom was done in yellow as well and was sparklingly clean. After changing into her pajamas, brushing her teeth thoroughly and washing her face she settled in bed and read until she drifted off to sleep.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Hollie's dreams were as predictable as the rest of her life. They rarely changed. She would relive the night of her attack at least once every night. Walking away from a large building, she would turn into a dark alley becoming aware of approaching footsteps behind her and would awake each time in a cold sweat just as the person touched her shoulder. These nightmares had been getting clearer as time went on.  
  
Once in awhile a dream would cut through that gave her hope and an aching in her heart for what she must have left behind. She would find herself in a room full of red furniture, a large fireplace and numerous children. Although she could not see their faces she had a feeling they must have been her friends. When a set of large hands would cover her eyes from behind she would giggle and turn around slowly finding herself in the embrace of a tall man. Hollie loved this dream very much. Whenever those arms were around her she felt warm inside and completely safe. Each time the dream came to her the only thing she would remember about the man was his fiery red hair.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Saturdays at the bookstore were her favorite. The neighborhood children would come bursting through the door at ten for an hour of story time. They always lifted her spirit and she could not help but smile the entire time they were there. This particular Saturday it was Hollie's turn to read aloud to the youngsters. The wide-eyed six years olds were staring up at her as she told them about Clifford, the big red dog. When the story was finished one little girl, with blonde pigtails and bright green eyes, came up to her and rapped her arms around Hollie's leg. "Thank you, Miss Hollie," she cooed.  
  
"You're very welcome, Cassie," she replied, bending down and scooping the little girl up into her arms. She handed Cassie to her mom and went around the room helping the children pick out books and saying good-byes.  
  
Once all the children and their parents had exited the store Mary sent two employees home in anticipation of a slow workday. Hollie, of course, would refuse to leave so Mary never even bothered approaching her about the subject. Mary put Hollie to work restocking the shelves in the back of the store.  
  
While she was replenishing the Fantasy section she heard the tinkle of the bell on the door indicating the entrance of a customer. Hearing Mary asking the person if they needed any help she turned her attention back to the job at hand until she heard the man speak. "I am looking for a book on the most common Mug-I mean the most common causes of death." The voice was silky and full of malice. She froze, her blood ran cold in her veins and her face drained of all color. She recognized the voice. Regaining her composure she poked her head around the corner and saw the back of the man. He was fairly tall, thin and had short blonde hair. When she noticed what he was dressed in her heart began to beat rapidly. He was sporting something similar to what she had been wearing when discovered. It was a long black robe with a hood, not the usual London attire.  
  
Mary walked past the man to show him the section he desired and as he began to turn around Hollie quickly ducked behind the bookshelf to conceal herself from sight. There was something about the man that didn't sit well with her. Even though she desperately wanted to know who she was and what she had been before her accident, asking this person just did not feel right.  
  
While the man was in the store she maneuvered around the shelves to keep herself hidden. After he paid for the book he had selected, Hollie approached Mary. "What book did that man buy?" she inquired.  
  
Mary seemed deep in thought for a moment before responding. "It isn't like you to be curious about the reading habits of strangers."  
  
Hollie sighed, "I know, but there was something familiar about him." After the words had left her mouth she regretted saying anything and wished to take it back.  
  
"Hollie!" Mary exclaimed. "You remember something? Why didn't you talk to him?" The curiosity and enthusiasm over the situation depicted on her face was plain.  
  
She was quiet for a second; she had to get her words precise. "I did not say I remembered him. There was just something that seemed familiar, but not in a good way," she quickly added. "It wasn't like a good memory, more like a bad perception."  
  
"Oh," Mary said in a downtrodden tone. "Well, he bought Death in the Twentieth Century."  
  
"How morbid!" she said. 'I wonder why he would want such a book,' Hollie thought.  
  
"I know," Mary paused. "It talks about the most common causes of death such as cancer and heart attack, even car accidents and drug overdoses. I asked him why he was interested in the dark book. My guess was he probably has to do some sort of report for Medical School but he said it was a gift for his father."  
  
Hollie contemplated what Mary had just posed. 'Maybe his father has some sort of disease and wanted to research it,' she considered. 'Yeah, that's it! There is no other possible explanation," she reassured herself. For the rest of the day the picture of the man kept creeping its way back into her thoughts. 


	3. An Unwelcome Anniversary

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
I would like to give my sincerest thanks to those who took the time to review my first two chapters. Hermione-weasley84; Alayna; ednyadove; glowbug; straycat; peachesNcream; and JustMe. I have taken everything to heart and am glad you are enjoying the story.  
  
Please take the time to review so I know if I should continue this tale or not.  
  
Chapter 3: An Unwelcome Anniversary  
  
*She was exiting a large stone building and walking down the enormous never ending steps leading to the street below when she heard footsteps behind her. Quickening her pace, her heart thumping loudly in her chest, she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned left onto the deserted street. The footsteps behind her accelerated their speed as well and seemed to be rapidly closing the distance between them.  
  
She made another left into a small alleyway that was pitch black. She had no idea why she made that turn but had a sense that there was safety waiting at the other end. Glancing around at the buildings on either side there were no doors or windows to be seen. All the fire-escape ladders were pulled up out of her reach. Looking straight ahead she saw a dingy bar on the corner at the other end. Breaking out into a run as she got close enough to make out the name on the bar, The Leaky Cauldron. But just as she saw the name she felt a hand on her shoulder that spun her around.  
  
A man dressed in a black robe with a hood over his face was standing before her. Realizing that she was utterly alone in the forsaken alley with this faceless man caused her to become more fearful for her life, if that was even possible. Her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest at any moment as she took in the man's appearance. She could see some blonde hair sticking out from underneath the hood triggering the thought that she knew the shady man.  
  
She hurriedly searched her pockets in a subconscious action to find something, anything, which would help her out of this situation. Her fingers closed around a smooth, thin object. Removing her eyes from the man and onto the object she extracted from her pocket she noticed it was some sort of stick. She grasped the stick with all the might she possessed in her right hand, pointing it at the man before her. Reverting her eyes back to the man she observed that he also had a stick in his hand and was pointing it at her face.  
  
She shuddered as the man at last spoke, her left hand traveling automatically to her throat to clutch at the charm on her necklace. "I have waited a long time to make the three of you pay for defeating my Lord," he said to her in a deep, gruff voice. All of her attention was on the wood pointed at her face. "Getting rid of you will make all of you suffer. Revenge is sweet." Her jaw dropped and her mouth went dry as she heard him mumble something under his breath. Even with watery eyes from the lack of blinking, she saw a green light emerge from the tip of the stick. As her body moved instinctively to the side she felt the beam graze her left temple and was immersed in agonizing pain. Collapsing to the ground she went unconscious and remembered nothing more. *  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Hollie awoke in a cold sweat to find herself in the safety of her flat. The first rays of the sun were filtering through the closed shades in her bedroom resulting in the slowing of her heartbeat. Even though the sun was just rising, her room was bright and cheerful. Wiping away the moister falling into her eyes from her forehead she slowly rose from the warm bed. She put on her blue robe that was draped over the armchair next to her bed and matching slippers making her way over to her desk. Taking out a pen and some paper she decided to write down the things she could remember from the nightmare. For the past eight months, since she had moved into the flat, the dreams were becoming more and more vivid. This had been the first time she saw the name of the bar and the only time the dream had continued past the man placing his hand on her shoulder. There was now no doubt in her mind she was remembering what happened to her the night she lost her past, and in reality, the future she should have been living. She scrawled down:  
  
Large Stone Building with Numerous Steps  
  
Dark Alleyway  
  
The Leaky Cauldron  
  
Blonde Man with Robe  
  
Three of Us  
  
Stick with Powers  
  
She figured that since today was her day off from the bookstore and it was the anniversary of her accident, she would try to locate this building and the bar and maybe get some answers. The thought of the bookstore triggered another memory, but a more recent one. 'The young man that purchased a book on death a few months ago, he had the same blonde hair as the person in my dream,' she thought. 'That can't be! The man in my dream was a lot older.' She paused trying to think back on the day she spent hiding behind the bookshelves. It finally came to her, 'He said he was buying it as a present for his father, maybe the man who attacked me was his dad.' She could feel the tenderness surrounding her left temple as her fingers gently slid back and forth. Her small scar, hardly noticeable, ached every morning much to her dismay. After having that detailed dream, at least she now knew how she received the scar. Rubbing her temples with her fingers she tried to ease the throbbing in her head. 'It just doesn't make any sense!'  
  
She pushed the thoughts aside feeling that there were more pressing matters on which to focus her attention. Reverting back to contemplating looking for the building and bar from her nightmare she remembered Adam telling her that she was found in an alley near the museum. Assuming that was as good a place to start as any, and taking the intensity of the dream as a sign, she rose from her desk and began to get ready for the day ahead.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Walking around aimlessly, enjoying the cold wind against her face and through her hair, Hollie glanced at the buildings on either side of the street to see if they resembled the building in her dreams. None of them looked remotely like the one she remembered but she was enjoying the festive decorations that adorned the shops in the spirit of the approaching Christmas holiday. She took to questioning the window shoppers passing her on the street but everyone she talked to had no idea what The Leaky Cauldron was or where it was located.  
  
The stores were bursting with customers. With just two days until Christmas people were anxiously trying to complete their shopping. Women pushing strollers were trying to keep their children under control and men were running from store to store desperate to find the perfect gift for their girlfriend or wife. "Why did I wait till the last minute again," one man commented as he brushed past Hollie, not even offering an apology. Another man ran into her as he was exiting a jewelry store, obviously not looking where he was headed. He helped Hollie off the ground and to her surprise asked her for a favor.  
  
"This might sound like a weird request, but I could really use a woman's opinion." His eyes were kind and his face was pleading. She sighed, nodded, and followed the man back into the jewelry store. "My wife likes rubies," he told her as he held up a pair of small ruby earrings in a square white gold setting. "She doesn't like anything extravagant. Do you think this is too much?"  
  
"I think they are simple, yet elegant," she replied as she fingered the earrings pensively. The red rubies made her think of the young man from her dreams. She smiled up at the nervous man, "I think your wife will love them, I know I would."  
  
He thanked her profusely for her assistance and went to the counter to purchase the gift. She left the jewelry store absorbed in thought. How she longed to have someone special in her life. Looking at the people on the street she saw couples walking by hand in hand enjoying the happy atmosphere around them. On the sidewalk opposite her she saw a man twirl his girl around and hold her close to him gently touching her lips with his own. She sighed, leaned against the wall, closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She had been on only two dates in the eight months she had been conscious. Neither lasted more than a couple hours. Although both men seemed nice and had great personalities they just did not give her the feeling the redhead in her dreams did. There was just no way that she could settle for something when she was positive that at one time she had the real thing.  
  
Extracting herself from her reverie she decided not to waste another instant. It was now time to go to the museum. She waited at the bus stop for what seemed like an eternity when it finally pulled up and opened its doors. "Will this take me to the museum?" she inquired.  
  
The driver furrowed his brow and replied, "Why would you want to take the bus to the museum when it is just around the bend?" He pointed to the intersection up ahead. She thanked the driver and walked briskly to the corner. She immediately recognized the stone steps and the building in front of her as the one from her dream. Crossing the street she stared up at it for a few moments before taking the steps two at a time to the museum's entrance. She did not hesitate a second as she quickly entered the building and proceeded to the information desk.  
  
"How may I help you today?" the receptionist inquired. She was an older woman in her early sixties with graying hair and brown eyes. Even though she did not smile she still seemed pleasant.  
  
"I was wondering who I would need to speak to about a person that might have been in here a year ago today." It sounded completely ridiculous to her as she spoke. 'No one is going to remember a particular person on a day so long ago when thousands of people come through here everyday,' she thought.  
  
"I'm sorry, dear, but that would be me you are supposed to talk to but I can assure you that who ever you are inquiring about I will not have the faintest idea if they were here a year ago." She seemed to have lost the pleasantness about her in exchange for an agitated attitude.  
  
"Sorry to have bothered you," Hollie commented as she turned on her heal and exited through the same door she entered. Retracing her path down the stone steps she turned and walked down the street in the direction she had seen herself take.  
  
After a few minutes she came upon a small alley and made a left. It looked exactly like it had in her nightmare. No doors or windows and the fire- escape ladders were all up and out of her reach. She could see the dingy bar in front of her. "I can't believe this is real," she said aloud to herself when she saw The Leaky Cauldron was written across the side of the tavern.  
  
Exiting the alleyway onto the street she stared at the door in front of her, contemplating whether to go in or not. 'It isn't as if I was in there in my dream. I was just heading in this direction,' she thought. She noticed all the people passing the bar by without a single glance. She came to the conclusion that no one was aware of its presence. In the end she made up her mind that she had nothing to lose by going in to see if there might be answers to her questions inside. 


	4. Who Am I?

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
To the people who took the time to Review: I would like to express my gratitude for taking the time to let me know what you think of my story. It gave me the push I needed to continue.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!  
  
Chapter 4: Who am I?  
  
Every head in the bar turned in the direction of the door as the young woman entered. Hollie looked at the people gawking at her and became very uncomfortable. These people were dressed in the same clothing that the man in her dream had been wearing. Remembering that she had been in similar attire when she was found, she relaxed. As she made her way to the bar every eye followed her.  
  
"Hi, Miss," said the man behind the counter. He looked utterly bewildered. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"I, uh, could I have a glass of water please?" Hollie was not sure how to go about asking her questions or what to ask for that matter. She needed some time to get her thoughts together. The bartender nodded and placed the glass of water in front of her. She sipped it and realized that no one in the bar had resumed their conversations; it was deadly quiet.  
  
She turned around to face the people. Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage she addressed them. "Did I do something wrong?" At that the people turned away from her and began to converse.  
  
"You didn't do anything wrong, Miss. We just aren't used to people dressed like you coming in here," the bartender answered her. She glanced down at her clothing. She was wearing faded blue jeans that she got from a second hand store and an old sweatshirt under her heavy tan winter coat. "I'm Jon. What's your name?"  
  
"People call me Hollie," she said. She still had not gotten used to telling people her name was Hollie; it just made more sense to say that was what she was called. She noticed the kind look on Jon's face. He seemed to be in his early thirties with curly, brown hair and brown eyes. Even with a scar at the corner of his mouth his smile was reassuring and she decided that if she was going to ask someone it might as well be him. "Do you know a place called Hogwarts?"  
  
Jon's eyes grew large and she could see him thinking about whether he was going to answer her question truthfully. She was not sure whether she had always been good at reading people or if it was a new trait she had obtained since her accident. Finally the bartender found his voice and replied, "Why do you ask?"  
  
'Oh boy,' she thought. 'Now I have to explain my story.' Although this was not the first time she had to describe what happened to her, she had done so with the curious employees at Book Classics, she still felt uncomfortable talking about it. "Well, I have this ring," she lifted her right hand to allow Jon a closer look. "It has the name Hogwarts and the year 1998 engraved on it but no one has heard of such a place. I think it might be a school I attended but I am not certain."  
  
"You don't know what school you went to?" She could see the concern in his eyes as he asked the question and she knew more explaining would be necessary if she was to get any answers out of this man.  
  
"I, uh, I was in a coma for over three months and I have no recollection of anything before then," she could not believe she was telling this stranger she was that vulnerable. Then again, to her everyone was technically a stranger. "I was found in the alleyway next to this bar and in a dream I had, which I think was a memory really, I noticed the sign to this place and thought that this was a good place to start."  
  
"Three months? That would mean you were found around the end of September or beginning of October." Hollie could tell he wanted to find out as much of her story as possible, and she could not blame him. If someone had asked Hollie these questions and told her this tale she would want to hear the whole thing as well.  
  
"Actually, I was found a year ago today. I awoke in early April and after I finished my physical therapy I moved to a flat in London and have been on my own for the past eight months. This is the first time I have built up my courage enough to look for answers," she sighed. That had taken plenty out of her. She figured that since she had told him this much she might as well go all the way. "I have this charm on my necklace that I was also found with, it has the letters HRH," she clutched the charm for support. "Everyone at the hospital thought those were my initials and since I was found around Christmas they called me Hollie."  
  
She heard the man gasp and start to back away from the bar. His eyes were once again wide and his mouth was hanging open in utter shock. Hollie's nerves started to quake at the sight and thought she had said something wrong. "Wait right here!" the man told her before walking out from behind the bar and exiting through the door at the back of the room.  
  
Her heart was pounding behind her ribs and her hands were beginning to sweat, especially the one clutching her charm. She had a tendency to hold onto that charm for dear life whenever she felt nervous or afraid, as if the charm itself would protect her. She shook her head slightly at her own stupidity, removing her hand from its perch, 'This charm cannot protect me! How foolish can I be?'  
  
Hearing the sound of many hurried feet at the back of the room she turned her head to see Jon approaching with three men at his heals. She furrowed her brow thinking, 'It isn't as if I did anything wrong. All he had to do was ask me to leave, not bring in his bouncers to do the job.' But as she got a closer look at the men, actually two men and a woman, she noticed that these were most certainly no bouncers.  
  
The first man was tall and looked extremely old, with a long, silvery-white beard and a mustache and hair to match. He had small half-moon spectacles perched on his long, crooked nose and a twinkle in his eye that was uncommon for a man his age. The second man was surly looking, with jet- black hair that she could tell was greasy even from this distance, and black, bottomless eyes. He also had a hooked nose and sallow skin. The woman next to him was not as young as the second man nor did she seem as old as the first. Her black hair was pulled up into a tight bun, which seemed to severely stretch the skin on her face. Her robes of emerald green seemed to accentuate her height and her glasses gave her a dignified look.  
  
Deciding that staring at the three people, as well as the bartender, was impolite she turned away and began sipping her water. Subconsciously her right hand traveled up to her throat to once again grasp the charm on the necklace she wore.  
  
When she looked up from her water Jon was standing in front of her, but instead of looking shocked like he had when he hurried off, he looked pleased and was grinning broadly. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand on end as realization dawned on her that she was being watched.  
  
Slowly swiveling on her stool and tucking her bushy locks behind her ears with her free hand she found herself facing the three people that arrived with Jon just moments before. All three looked shocked, happy, and nervous at the same time while they ogled her intensely. "I told you it was her," she heard the bartender behind her utter.  
  
"You, you know who I am?" she stuttered. But the three people did not seem to have found their voices yet and all six eyes were on the hand that clutched the charm at her throat.  
  
"May we see your charm?" the woman asked softly. Her lips were thin and her spectacles were about to fall off the end of her nose. She seemed kindly and Hollie thought that if they had any clue as to her identity she would show them her precious charm.  
  
Removing her hand she spoke, "I, ah, never take it off, so if it is alright with you, er, you can take a look at it where it lies." There was no power in the universe that could make Hollie remove her necklace, not even death itself. It was the only thing that mattered to her in the slightest because it gave her the feeling that she was loved and cared for at some point in her mysterious past.  
  
The woman slowly lifted her hand to the ornament and rubbed her thumb over the letters repeatedly as if they might change shape under her touch. After what seemed like an eternity with the woman's hand all over her most prized possession, she heard the woman mumble, "HRH," and let the trinket slide from her fingers to come back into contact with Hollie's skin. The woman then turned to the man with the silvery-white beard, "Its her, Dumbledore," she said with the utmost conviction.  
  
'Dumbledore,' she thought. 'That name certainly sounds familiar.' "I'm sorry, but if you know who I am I would very much appreciate it if you would address me." After she said it her hand flew to her mouth. "I, ah, didn't mean to sound rude," she mumbled through her fingers. Removing her hand from her face she decided to change strategies, "Would you mind telling me who you are?" As she said this she noticed the smile fade from the woman's mouth and her eyes begin to water. The man with the black hair creased his brow, but the older man's eyes were still sparkling and he continued to smile at her.  
  
'My name is Albus Dumbledore and I work as head master at Hogwarts,' he paused and she could tell he was leaving something out. He had an uncanny ability to make her feel comfortable. 'These two people are Professor Snape," he pointed to the surly looking man on his left. "And Professor McGonagall," he said as he motioned to the woman of the group. "They both work with me at the school you once attended."  
  
"So, I was right. I did attend this school." She smiled to herself and grasped at her throat again. "Then how come no one has heard of it? Everyone at the hospital had no idea what it was or where it was located. Actually, come to think of it, the same is true for this bar." She spoke the next part more to herself than the three people in her presence. "Hogwarts must be a private school and this tavern has to be exclusive as well, it is the only logical explanation."  
  
Hollie noticed Dumbledore's eyes were still sparkling behind his glasses and his smile seemed to widen. "You certainly are the smartest witch we ever had graduate from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Now she was certain she was hearing things. Witch! But even though it seemed odd it also seemed to make some sense as she thought back on the events of her nightmare.  
  
After thinking for a few moments she voiced her opinion. "So the sticks in my dream, the one that I was holding and the one the man was pointing at me, were wands then?" she questioned even though she already knew the answer.  
  
"Yes," Snape replied. "Do you know the identity of your attacker?" He obviously wanted to get straight to the point. He did not seem the type of person to beat around the bush. He wiped some of his greasy hair out of his eyes and she could see the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.  
  
"I remember, in fact it came back to me in a dream, that he was wearing a dark robe and had a hood over his face but I could see whiffs of blonde hair protruding from the hood," she paused.  
  
"Lucius!" she heard Snape murmur. "Did he speak at all?" he questioned. Although his voice was rough there was a kindness in it that she could hear. His eyes glittered with unshed tears that did not seem to suit his demeanor in the slightest. She could feel his misty eyes boring into her and she felt as if he could see right through her strong façade, right to her weak core.  
  
She took a deep breath and looked away from Snape before she continued, "He said that he wanted to make the three of us pay and that getting rid of me would make each of us suffer. But I was the only one there and I don't know the other two he was talking about."  
  
"That low-down, good for nothing," Snape started but was interrupted by Dumbledore.  
  
"Severus, now is not the time."  
  
Hollie was thoughtful for a moment as she considered what to say next. "I think I came across someone from my past a few months ago. Even though I only saw him from behind he looked vaguely familiar and definitely reminded me of the man I saw last night in my nightmare, only younger."  
  
"What happened when you saw this man?" McGonagall inquired.  
  
Hollie blushed profusely as she remembered how cowardly she had acted. Her eyes lowered their gaze to the floor. "I hid. It didn't feel right to me so I hid. I work at a bookstore and when he came in I was stocking the shelves in the back. My boss helped him find what he needed; apparently he bought a book about the most common types of death. He said it was a gift for his father. I thought maybe his father might have been the person who attacked me," she paused for reflection. "But that sounds stupid!" she quickly added waving her hand dismissively.  
  
"No it does not, my dear," McGonagall comforted. "It is always a good policy to go by one's instincts because most of the time they are correct, especially if you are a witch." She smiled at the girl seated in front of her.  
  
Hollie decided to once again ask the question that was of the utmost importance to her, "I'm sorry, but, er, you do know who I am, right?" They still had yet to tell her what her name was and she thought that might trigger some sort of memory. "I have been called Hollie now for nearly a year but I have no idea what my real name is. Are HRH my initials?"  
  
"Your name is Hermione, my dear," Dumbledore soothed. "Hermione Granger."  
  
"Hermione Granger?" now she was confused. "What does HRH stand for then?" She just had to know the answer. If it wasn't her initials then it had to be something important, at least it had to be important to her.  
  
She heard Dumbledore take a breath before he spoke. "HRH stands for Harry, Ron and Hermione. The three of you have been best friends since you were eleven and they bought you that charm for graduation. We have never known you to take it off, and obviously that is still the case." He paused and looked at the two professors standing beside him questioningly. She could tell he was considering how to say, or even whether to say the next part. "We now feel that your charm is what saved your life. Ron and Harry told us that as long as you wore it you would be kept from serious harm. They placed a spell on it to protect you because they were concerned for your safety. When you disappeared a year ago those two never gave up the hope that you were alive; they were well aware that you never took off the necklace."  
  
"Ron and Harry?" she mumbled under her breath. As soon as the names left her lips it was as if thunder had crashed in her brain. She felt weak and saw everything around her go black as she collapsed to the floor, unconscious once again. 


	5. Coping

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
To my Reviewers: I would just like to thank you for your continued support of my story. I would not have continued with it if you did not let me know you like it. I would also like to especially thank Ron-Is-Mine for letting me know I was being selective of the reviews I received, it has been fixed.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!  
  
Chapter 5: Coping  
  
"Ron Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed up the stairs to her youngest son. "You get up this instant. Your breakfast is getting cold and Harry will be arriving here any moment."  
  
Ron jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs of the Burrow. He was staying at home for the Christmas holidays. Following graduation five years ago he moved out of the Burrow and into a flat in London he shared with Harry near Diagon Alley. Harry was currently off visiting Sirius, who had been cleared of any wrong doing after the downfall of the Dark Lord their last year at Hogwarts. They both were scheduled to arrive that morning to spend the holidays with the Weasley clan. To top it off, the very next day was Christmas Eve and the Grangers would be coming over as well. The thought of the Grangers made Ron's eyes begin to leak, he missed Hermione terribly but never gave up the hope that she was alive. He silently cursed his parents for inviting them. It was always difficult for him to be around them, they had lost their only child and seemed to subconsciously cling to Ron. He had been dating Hermione for just over two years when he had planned on asking her to marry him last Christmas, but she disappeared two days before he had the chance.  
  
He sighed softly as he sat down at the table full of people to eat his breakfast. Ginny was seated to his right with two empty spaces in-between them for Harry and Sirius. Harry had proposed to her over the summer and he smiled inwardly at the thought of the look on Hermione's face when she found out she was not around for the momentous occasion. On the other side of Ginny were Fred and his wife Angelina with their one-year-old twin sons George and Harry. Next to them was George with his wife Alicia, who was pregnant with their first child. Percy and his wife Penelope were seated across from Ron with their three-year-old little girl, Annabelle. Next to them was Bill with his wife Fleur and their two-year-old son, Ron and newborn baby girl, Molly, named after his Mum. Charlie was next with his girlfriend Hailie. The table was completed with his mum and dad seated at opposite ends.  
  
Hearing a small 'pop' emanating from the living room, Ron and Ginny rose from their seats to greet their guests. "Hey, mate!" Ron said as he clasped hands with his best friend. "How've ya been?"  
  
"Not bad, you?" Harry replied letting go of Ron's hand and engulfing his fiancé in a hug.  
  
"Sirius, its great to see you," Ron said to the other man in the room and they also shook hands.  
  
After the greetings had been completed the four made their way back into the kitchen for the lovely breakfast Mrs. Weasley had prepared. As Ron was finishing his food he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the tell tale sign he was being watched. He lifted his face to see every eye at the table on him. "Do I have food on my face or something?" he questioned even though he knew why they were staring. Today was the anniversary of Hermione's disappearance. One year ago today he had been the happiest man alive and then out of nowhere his dreams vanished before his eyes. His family went back to eating and Ron, deciding that he had enough of being social, returned to his room in dampened spirits.  
  
On his desk he had two presents wrapped neatly in red and gold paper, the colors of Gryffindor House to which he belonged. He picked up the smaller box and held it lightly in his hand. Inside was the ring he was going to give Hermione last Christmas. It was not much, a small solitary diamond in a gold setting that was simple and elegant, he only wished he could afford the type of ring she deserved. He put it down and picked up the larger, rectangular box that was lying next to it on the desk. While he was out shopping for presents for the members of his family he came across a gold bracelet that he thought would suit Hermione well. It had only one charm, an open book. He grinned as he thought of the engraving he had placed on it; Hogwarts, A History. He knew she would love it.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
His mind drifted back to when he had finally gathered his courage to 'fight' for Hermione. For five frustrating years, from the time he was in his fifth year at Hogwarts, he had stood by and watched her grow up before his eyes. He saw her focus more on her appearance when she turned sixteen, continually applying Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to make her hair less bushy and wearing a minimal amount of makeup that she got from Parvati and Lavender. Although he liked her new appearance, he did have a fondness in his heart for her bushy hair and natural complexion. At least that way there weren't as many boys to fend off.  
  
When Viktor Krum came back into the picture two years after graduation Ron knew he would have to act if he wanted to have Hermione.  
  
*Krum had made up lame excuses to spend time with her on a regular basis. Hermione had been working at The Ministry of Magic in the Care of Magical Creatures Department since graduation and had moved up the ranks steadily ever since. Viktor Krum just 'happened' to need advice on the treatment of his house elves or his garden gnomes or any other creature he came up with and decided that Hermione was the one to ask. He would show up once a week and after discussing his latest creature he would ask her to lunch. Hermione had been telling Ron and Harry all about the lunch dates for over a month when Ron completely lost control. He knew it was 'now or never.'  
  
The following week the three of them had scheduled a night out to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron and a muggle movie, Hermione's pick. Ron and Harry had been sharing a flat following graduation and Ron begged Harry to back out of the plans. "Just say something came up. Just say anything," Ron pleaded. "I can't lose her forever." Ron had never seen Harry smile so broadly.  
  
"I'm glad you finally realize that, mate," Harry sighed. "I was beginning to believe you are as thickheaded as Hermione thinks you are."  
  
Harry, of course, had no trouble breaking off his plans, telling them he had a date. He did in fact make other arrangements with Ginny instead, so really, it was not a lie.  
  
"Ron, maybe we can just meet next week when Harry is available," Hermione had offered.  
  
"No, I was looking forward to the dinner and the movie you picked." He retorted. "Besides, it isn't as if either of us have anything better to do."  
  
They agreed to meet at The Leaky Cauldron at six that evening since the movie started at eight. That would give them plenty of time to eat. The tavern was practically full of people when Ron arrived and looking around the room he noticed his best girl friend sitting at the small table in the back which he had reserved special. He wanted to be situated as far from everyone as possible. During dinner they had made small talk and Ron could feel his stomach tighten every time she bit her lip, blushed or clutched at the charm on her necklace he and Harry had given to her as a graduation present. Moving his plan into full swing he told her he left his muggle money in his flat and would have to return there before heading to the theater.  
  
Since it was a beautifully cool November evening instead of apparating they both decided it would be better to walk the three blocks to his flat. While they were walking Ron 'accidentally' tripped Hermione and she fell awkwardly to the hard sidewalk. "Ron, geez, could you be anymore clumsy?"  
  
"I'm clumsy? I believe you are the one with the bruised bum." He smiled at her and offered his hand to help her up. She graciously accepted but when she had risen to her feet Ron made no effort to remove his hand from hers. He watched her look down at there intertwined fingers and noticed the blush creep up her slim neck and cover her cheeks in a matter of seconds. He also became aware that she too, made no attempt to release her grip of his hand.  
  
When they had finally reached his flat he dropped her hand from his and held the door open for her to enter. He heard and saw the reaction he desired. She gasped, her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were large and beginning to water. The room was filled with roses of every color imaginable and colors that one could not even dream up. A harp in the corner was playing a slow tune that filled the air with warmth. Ron took Hermione's reaction as a good sign. "May I have the honor of this dance," he asked as he gingerly took her right hand in his left, placing her left hand up over his shoulder and his right onto her hip. For the first time in his life he had made Hermione speechless.  
  
Slowly he started to guide her across the flowers beneath their feet and he saw her face relax into a smile and her eyes twinkle with unshed tears. She lowered her eyes from his gaze and rested her head on his chest as they continued to dance. Neither of them noticed the music stop. When Hermione finally lifted her eyes to his once more her face was tear streaked and blotchy but Ron thought she had never looked more beautiful. "What is all this for?" she asked in a barely audible whisper.  
  
"It is for all the Yule Balls we never attended together, all the times when I missed the opportunity to dance with you, for all the flowers I should have sent you, and because I want to spend forever with you. I do not want to waste another precious moment that we could be sharing together." He wiped away the moisture falling steadily from her eyes as he leaned forward and caught her lips with his own.  
  
It was a soft kiss, full of love and caring. When they pulled apart Hermione was the first to speak. "You do not know how long I have waited for you to say that." She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him again with more passion than either of them knew they possessed. With his last coherent thought he flicked his wrist and the harp began to once again play the melody it had earlier. They swayed to the music the rest of the night, content to just be held in the other's embrace. *  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
He sighed softly as he placed the box back down. Just as he returned to bed thinking 'I just need to be alone,' he heard a knock on his door. He groaned to himself; positive his Mum was checking up on him, as usual. The person knocked again and he heard the familiar voice of his best friend, "Its just me! Can I come in?"  
  
Sitting up in his bed and crossing his legs beneath him he responded, "Yes!" with not much enthusiasm. He was well aware of what this conversation would be about.  
  
"Wow, your room hasn't changed one bit," Harry said as he glanced around the orange room. The Chudley Cannons' posters still covered every inch of the walls and the sloping ceiling and his Chudley Cannons' bedspread was sprawled across most of the untidy bed. On the windowsill there was the same fish tank that had been there for as long as Harry could remember, but instead of being full of frogspawn it now had actual fish swimming around. As always, the sounds of the ghoul in the attic were echoing through the small room.  
  
A soft grunt from Ron was the only reply Harry received.  
  
"You ok, mate?" Harry inquired.  
  
"Fine," he was not too convincing.  
  
"No you are not. Listen I miss her too, but you have to get on with your life. It is what she would have wanted." Ron looked up at Harry standing before him with confusion in his eyes.  
  
"I don't have a life with out her," Ron retorted as he slowly rose from the bed. Even though he was only a few inches taller he seemed to tower over the raven-haired man. "And how dare you imply that she is dead." His voice was low but there was an abruptness and strength to it that did not need to be loud to be understood. His eyes flashed with anger that made Harry take a step backwards, away from his friend.  
  
Clearing his throat, Harry quickly clarified what he meant, "I'm not saying that I believe she is dead but you have to move on."  
  
Ron's height shrank as his anger subsided. He walked over to the window and stared out at the gnomes causing mayhem in the garden below. "I know you mean well but this is really none of you business," he said sharply.  
  
"None of my business?" Harry was shocked at how cruel Ron was being. He started to close the distance between them, "She was my best friend too, you know." Now it was his turn to be angry.  
  
"I am well aware of that, Harry," his tone was friendlier. He returned to his seated position on his bed and cast his eyes down at the floor.  
  
Harry calmed himself down, "I just want to see you happy." There was a long awkward silence that followed. Ron's body seemed to be hitching as he tried to hold back his sobs. "Ron," Harry broke the silence. "We have to accept that Hermione might not come back." It was hard to say and Harry knew it was probably harder for Ron to hear.  
  
Ron looked up at him through misty eyes for a few moments before he replied. "Harry, this isn't the same for you. I know you cared about her but I was, Bloody Hell! I mean I am in love with her." He could feel the water in his eyes threatening to explode through his closed lids. "You have Ginny, I want my Hermione."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say and knew there was nothing that would comfort his friend at that moment. He walked over to him, squeezed his shoulder in a consoling gesture and quickly exited the room giving Ron the alone time he desperately wanted. 


	6. Images From Her Past

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
I am very grateful to all of those people who have reviewed my story. I am enjoying working on this plot very much and would like to know of anything that does not make sense or needs clarification. Keep me informed of how you like the way the story is heading.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!  
  
Chapter 6: Images From Her Past  
  
Hermione felt as if her head was about to explode. Her hands traveled up to her temples and her fingers tried desperately to massage the pain away. Slowly she opened her eyes to look around at the dimly illuminated room. It was oddly familiar. Everything around her was a bright white that reflected the few lights that were lit, though they were no ordinary lights; they were torches. There were pictures on the wall and she suddenly became aware that the figures in the portraits were moving. She blinked a couple times to make sure it was not her imagination, but they were still there and moving when she opened her eyes. The people in the portraits smiled at her and waved before walking out of the picture all together leaving only the scenery visible. She thought she was still asleep or, more than likely, she had a head injury. 'That's it!' she thought. 'I must have hit my head when I blacked out.'  
  
She was in a strange bed and she had no recollection of how she arrived there. 'No recollection! What else is new?' she mused silently. Since she had spent awhile in a hospital, even if she was only conscious for a week, she could tell this was some sort of infirmary. The torches were confusing because everywhere she ever remembered being had electrical lighting. The sheets felt cool on her warm skin and she settled herself back down under the covers.  
  
She started when the sound of footsteps approached the door to the ward from the other side of the wall on her right. The door creaked open to reveal a woman dressed in white. "Oh, my dear, how long have you been awake?" concern filled her voice. "I am so sorry I was not here, I had to let the headmaster know you were comfortable. It is great to see you again, although I wish it could be under different circumstances."  
  
"Do I know you?" She knew it sounded discourteous but she had no clue as to the identity of the nurse.  
  
"Oh, I am Madame Pomfrey," the woman said looking a little downtrodden at the lack of recognition. "I am the medi-witch here."  
  
"Here? Where is here?" Hermione asked. "And how did I get here? The last thing I remember is being at The Leaky Cauldron."  
  
"You are back at Hogwarts, of course," she replied as if it was the most natural conclusion. "Professor Dumbledore brought you to the hospital wing last night, you were out cold."  
  
"Can I speak with the headmaster?" Hermione still had many questions that she wanted answered.  
  
"Certainly, Miss. Granger," Dumbledore responded. He had entered the room without either of the women noticing. "I was hoping to have a word with you myself."  
  
Hermione nodded and gestured for him to continue as Madame Pomfrey returned to her office to leave the two to their conversation.  
  
"How are you feeling this afternoon? You were asleep for nearly a day," Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"It is better than four months," was her sarcastic reply. She gave him a half smile before she mumbled the rest, "or for over twenty years of one's life."  
  
"You were not unconscious for twenty years, Hermione. It just feels that way." He paused and looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "Do you remember anything from your past, anything at all?"  
  
"There are certain things that sound or look familiar to me," she answered. "Like your name and your spectacles."  
  
He smiled and his eyes sparkled at her comment. He looked the same as the previous night in the tavern. "I am truly flattered that I had that much of an impression on you."  
  
She looked down at her lap, her right hand subconsciously lifting to clutch the charm at her throat before she continued. "I have taken to drawing things, things that seem of some importance."  
  
Movement at the bottom of the bed caught Dumbledore's eye and he noticed she was rubbing her feet together in a nervous gesture. "What have you been drawing? Maybe I can tell you the significance of these things."  
  
Her face brightened at his last comment. 'That would be wonderful,' she thought. "Well, I have a tendency to draw a large castle with many towers."  
  
"That one is easy," he mused. Raising his arms he looked around the room. "Hogwarts! You are in that castle at this moment."  
  
She smiled, baring her perfect teeth. Her heart seemed lighter already. "I also sketch two animals. One is an orange cat with yellow eyes and the other is a tiny owl in the palm of a hand." She was thoughtful for a minute. "I have the drawings at my house if you need to see them. I don't think they are very good but it might give you more of an idea of what they look like."  
  
"There is no need," he said simply. "The cat's name is Crookshanks. You bought him as your thirteenth birthday present from your parents prior to your third year here." He snickered softly to himself. "He gave you some trying times, Crookshanks did. I remember when you were not on speaking terms with one of your best friends, Ron Weasley, because he thought Crookshanks had eaten his pet rat, Scabbers."  
  
"Really?" she giggled prior to frowning slightly. "Is he alright? Crookshanks, I mean. I have not been around to take care of a cat. I hope he was well looked after."  
  
"No need to fret! Your parents took him in with them."  
  
Her eyes drifted back to her lap, "My parents," she mumbled. Lifting her eyes to meet his she posed, "And the owl? Is, er, or was he mine as well?"  
  
Choosing his words carefully he responded, "No, my dear, he is not your owl." Taking a breath he continued, "He belongs to Ron. The owl arrived at the end of your third year on the train ride home. He delivered a letter to Harry, your other best friend, from his godfather, Sirius. Sirius gave the minute owl to Ron to make up for the loss of his pet rat."  
  
"Oh," she sighed. Listening to him speak about friends she did not remember was difficult to handle. "So Crookshanks did eat Scabbers then?"  
  
Dumbledore indicated no by shaking his head somewhat. "It is complicated. Scabbers was actually an animagus, which means a human that can take the form of a particular animal. In this case, Peter Pettigrew could turn into a rat and had been living in fear as such. Sirius and Crookshanks were the only two who knew his identity and Sirius was the real reason Ron lost Scabbers. Peter returned to the Dark Lord when he was discovered."  
  
Hermione looked reflective for a minute, her brow scrunched up in concentration. "The Dark Lord? The one that the three of us defeated, the reason that man attacked me?"  
  
"Yes," simple and to the point. "Did you draw anything else?" he inquired, reverting back to the original topic of discussion.  
  
"Hmmm, I liked to draw broomsticks but I guess being a witch means that I can fly." She rolled her eyes at the words that she spoke. They sounded absurd. She released her grasp on her charm as she had become more at ease with the situation.  
  
He snickered softly, "I think that was the only course you had trouble with here. You were top of every class except that one. Harry had the uncanny ability of making flying on a broom look easy. I think he is the reason you sketched the broomsticks."  
  
"Now that I have those figured out, what about lightning bolts? Why in the world would I be concerned with lightning bolts?" This one was utterly confusing. 'Did I get caught in a thunderstorm and get struck by lightning?' she questioned herself silently. 'It is the only logical answer.'  
  
"No you did not get struck by lightning," he grinned at her once again. "And might I add that the most logical answer does not necessarily mean it is the correct one."  
  
She was shocked! 'I didn't say that out loud, how could he possibly have known that was what I was thinking.'  
  
He answered her thoughts for a second time, "I have my own abilities, my dear. As for the real reason you sketch lightning bolts it is fairly simple. Your friend Harry, Harry Potter, has a lightning bolt scar on his forehead from an encounter he had with the Dark Lord at the mere age of one. He lost his parents that night and when the Dark Lord tried to rid the world of him, the curse backfired leaving Harry with the scar as an ever-present reminder."  
  
"How horrible! To lose your entire family, especially at such a young age." Tears were welling up in Hermione's eyes. Although she could not remember these people, her heart still ached for them. 'After all,' she thought, 'these people had been my friends.'  
  
"Yes it is," his eyes seemed to dim to some extent. "But after the three of you defeated Voldemort, that was his name, in your seventh year here he has been like any normal wizard." He snickered once again. "Well, any normal wizard who is the hero of the wizarding world."  
  
She smiled despite herself and the moisture vanished from her eyes. "I also have a strange obsession with the game of chess, especially the knights. I tend to draw them more than anything else. Did I like to play chess?" She leaned back on the raised pillows of the bed to get more comfortable. The talk was a good one and it seemed like it could go on forever.  
  
"It began your first year here," he started. "You were eleven then. Towards the end of the year you and the two boys discovered the presence of the sorcerer's stone here in the castle." Her eyebrows lifted questioningly at the mention of the stone. Understanding her need for clarity, he explained the purpose of the stone. "The sorcerer's stone has the ability to turn any object into pure gold and produces the elixir of life that makes anyone who drinks it immortal." Now she was definitely intrigued.  
  
"The three of you also learned of a plan Voldemort had to steal the stone and you decided it was your duty to stop it from happening. There were many obstacles you had to face including a large three-headed dog and Devil's Snare, which is a plant that wraps itself tightly around a person in a death grip. The one I think you remember most is the life size game of wizard's chess. The three of you had to play your way across the board and since Ron was the best at the game he called the moves. Harry took the position of a bishop, you were a castle and Ron was a knight."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened as those words left Dumbledore's mouth. She pondered, 'I was focusing on a knight; Ron was the knight; I was focusing on Ron!'  
  
"The game of Wizard's Chess is a little different from the chess to which you are familiar," Dumbledore carried on. "The chess pieces are alive and when one moves to take an opposing piece it shows no mercy. This life size game was no different and towards the end of the match Ron had to sacrifice himself to allow you and Harry to continue on to get the stone."  
  
Hermione let out a small gasp. "He sacrificed himself! But he survived, you told me things about him in his third year and at graduation. Was he hurt badly?" Concern was written across her face.  
  
"He ended up just being badly bruised once he regained consciousness. The three of you enjoyed playing chess together whenever you were not working on your studies, although I believe both you and Harry have yet to beat Ron."  
  
Dumbledore noticed that Hermione began to bite her bottom lip and nervously twirled her hair around her finger. "Am I correct in the assumption that there is a question you wish to pose?" He could tell there was something pressing on her mind and he wanted to do everything in his power to help her recall her past as quickly as possible. 


	7. Tell Me

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Thanks for all the encouragement I have received. Let me know if you enjoy this chapter!  
  
Amanda: I understand what you wrote about it being boring when I go through things that happened in the past books but I needed to do so to lead up to this chapter. The second thing she wants to ask pertains to things she noticed from the previous chapter. I will try not to do so much backtracking in the future.  
  
Kai: The reason Dumbledore did not contact her parents right away is answered in this chapter.  
  
Ednyadove: I know you will like this one.  
  
Emily: As of right now her memories have been coming back to her while she is asleep. That is when she is most relaxed and she is not constantly 'trying' to remember. You may be right about 'everything' coming back to her in a rush later on. I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out (wink).  
  
CrazyPoet: I have taken your suggestion to heart and you will be happy to know that the downfall of Voldemort will be told later in this story.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!  
  
Chapter 7: Tell Me  
  
The infirmary was silent. Two people were situated at the far end, one in the hospital bed and the other next to her sitting in a chair. No curtains were drawn around the two, as they were the only occupants of the vast wing. Both looked like their minds were miles away. The woman was biting her bottom lip thoughtfully and the man was gazing at the wall from empty picture to empty picture. The room was growing darker by the minute as the day dragged on. More torches suddenly sprang to life with the increasing dimness causing the young witch to jump slightly, her eyes training on one of the fires across from her in the ward.  
  
Moving her glance back to the elderly wizard she finally broke the silence. "Well," Hermione hesitated. "There are actually two questions that are on my mind." She felt weird taking up so much of the man's time. It was almost certain that being such an influential man, wizard, he had more important things he could be doing. Nevertheless, there were just so many things she wished to know.  
  
"Only two?" he said while smirking. He knew that there was more than one thing she wished to have answered; he was just surprised that she only wanted to ask two things. He could sense the multitude of questions floating around in that overworked brain of hers.  
  
She beamed and stopped her fidgeting figuring this must be important to him as well if he was willing to give up so much of his valuable time to help her recall her history. "I was wondering if you could tell me how I met Ron and Harry and how we became such good friends." Her voice was soft and shaky as she worried that he might not be able to give her an answer to this inquiry.  
  
"You met the boys when you were eleven on the train ride to Hogwarts. You were helping Neville Longbottom look for his toad, which he was always losing I might add, and entered into the compartment Ron and Harry occupied." He was a wise wizard and he had either been told these stories by his 'favorite' students or had seen it in his own way as he had with many things in his lifetime. "Being the outgoing girl you are, when you noticed Ron trying to do a spell you sat down to watch. Since his older twin brothers, Fred and George, gave it to him the spell did not turn out to be a real one. Those two have always been practical jokers." He smiled to himself at the thought of the Weasley twins; they could always make him laugh no matter what the occasion. "You were not impressed and made that quite clear to the young Weasley boy saying, 'Are you sure that's a real spell? Well it's not very good, is it?' You then decided to show off your own abilities to the boys by repairing Harry's broken glasses." He began snickering loudly. Through his delight he uttered, "When you were ^giggle^ leaving the compartment ^giggle^ you pointed out that Ron ^giggle^ had dirt on his nose." For an old man he certainly knew how to roar with laughter. Even Hermione snickered at her own assertiveness pushing her next question, the most important one, out of her mind for the time being.  
  
After calming himself, Dumbledore continued with the story, using hand movements to emphasize the importance of some of the details. "Needless to say you were not Ron's favorite person. On Halloween that year in charms class you were paired with Ron to learn how to levitate feathers. Ron kept swinging his wand forcefully around like a windmill and chanting, "Wingardium Leviosa."" Dumbledore mimicked the actions he described with his own arms. "He was having no luck at all. You proceeded to stop his crazy movements and correct his pronunciation of the spell. "Its Wing-GAR- dium Levi-O-sa!" you said while you did the correct swish and flick movement with your wand." He demonstrated the correct motions to Hermione. "The feather floated slowly off the table. This did not go over too well with Mr. Weasley." He paused to take a breather.  
  
His eyes were gleaming exceptionally and the expression on his face was of pure delight as he resumed telling the story to the young witch in the hospital bed. "When class had ended the boys were walking through the corridor and talking about the lesson. Ron was saying, "It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly!" as you were maneuvering past them. Harry noticed you were in tears. Later on that day the boys noted that you had missed one of your classes, which was totally out of character, and had not shown up for the Halloween feast. They learned from two of the Gryffindor girls, Parvati and Lavender, that you were crying in the girls bathroom and wanted to be left alone."  
  
Hermione interrupted the headmaster, "What is Gryffindor?" Forgetting all her troubles she was completely focused on everything Dumbledore expressed, whether it was in verbal communication or his body language. She made sure to memorize the correct swish and flick movement for when she would get her wand back.  
  
"Oh, it is one of the four houses that a student is placed into the first day they arrive." He began ticking them off on his fingers, "They are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. All three of you are Gryffindors." Having answered her interjection he went back to telling the tale.  
  
"Here is where it gets interesting, at least in my opinion. One of the professors came barging in the Great Hall shouting about a mountain troll that was roaming the dungeons. Chaos ensued and the heads of the different houses led their members back to their dormitories. Ron and Harry did not go with the other students; they remembered you were in the bathroom, unaware of the troll. While the boys were making their way down one of the corridors they saw the troll, meaning it had left the dungeon. They watched it enter a room, quickly shutting and locking the door behind it. They then proceeded to hurry off in the direction of Gryffindor tower. It was not until they heard a scream did they realize they had locked the twelve-foot mountain troll in the girls' lavatory, with you inside. They retraced their steps and came to your rescue. You were huddled underneath a sink in the far corner of the room. They tried to distract the beast and eventually Harry ended up with his arms around its neck."  
  
Hermione was on the edge of her seat, literally. She was sitting up straight, legs curled beneath her, hands incessantly fiddling with each other in her lap as she listened to the mind-blowing events of her own life. "He accidentally shoved his wand up the troll's nose." Both of them shivered and made faces at the mental image. "The troll was eventually going to bludgeon Harry with his club when Ron pulled out his wand and racked his brain for a spell. The only one he thought of he used. "Wingardium Leviosa" he said as he flicked his wrist," He demonstrated the movements once again, this time Hermione copying. Dumbledore sniggered at the attentiveness of the young witch and her unrelenting desire to learn, no matter what the circumstances. "It worked. The club hovered in the air and as the troll looked at it in confusion the weapon came down on its head and knocked him cold. When the teachers arrived you covered for the boys and took the blame. After that the three of you were the best of friends."  
  
"Amazing!" was the first thing that came to her mind. "I can not believe I led such a fascinating life. It certainly puts the one I'm leading now to shame." She scrunched up her forehead in concentration. 'If only I could remember,' she thought.  
  
Dumbledore reverted the conversation back to her inquiries. "You had another question for me I believe." His voice was calm and reassuring.  
  
"This one is, well, personal," she faltered. "I was just wondering if you could tell me why I seem to focus more on Ron than Harry if both of them were, er, are my best friends?" She could not help but think that maybe, just maybe, she already knew the answer. "I mean, I would sketch the knight piece more often than anything else."  
  
"Is there no reason you can come up with to explain it yourself?" he turned her question around. Hermione was positive that this was nothing new for him. He seemed the type of person to take a step back and let her decipher things on her own, prompting only when necessary.  
  
She was reflective for quite sometime, doubtful if she should ask the question that she needed to know the answer to in order to be sure she was on the right track. She bit her lip yet again and took another deep breath. "Well, does Ron happen to have red hair?" she posed. If he answered 'yes' than it would be easier to ask her next question. She would assume Ron to be the redhead from the dreams she loved so much, the only one that has ever been able to push her nightmares away. That Ron was the person who made her want to giggle constantly and in whose arms made her feel safe and secure. If Dumbledore said the one word she desperately wanted to hear, than Hermione would know whom the boy, or wizard, was that made all the relationships she ever tried hopeless. She would know for sure that he was the man of her dreams, the one she was meant to be with; the one she was never supposed to have been taken from in the first place.  
  
"Why, Hermione! You remember something!" She released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Dumbledore's grin was plain and his eyes were even more brilliant than they had been before. His fingers were busy playing with the tip of his long white beard and his foot tapped continuously on the hard floor in the beat of some lighthearted melody she did not recognize.  
  
His response had been crucial. She smiled at him, pleased for being able to put two and two together. The tapping of his foot broke her thoughts repeatedly causing her to spend a great deal of time trying to find the right way to say her conjecture. Every time she thought she finally had the correct words the incessant patter made her lose them again. After a long delay she finally resumed, "Was I, er, am I in, this is really hard to say." With a sharp intake of air she continued, "Am I in love with Ron?" The question came out rapidly and in an unusually high pitched tone of voice.  
  
"Right you are!" He grinned. "And Ron is very much in love with you." He seemed to be glowing. He took her hand between his and squeezed it in a caring fashion before returning his fingers to their exploration of the hairs of his beard.  
  
"I wish I could remember. This is so difficult," she suddenly stopped and a look of horror played across her face as she returned her gaze to the joyous features of the headmaster. Her eyes seemed pained and her mouth was tight and thin. Fistfuls of sheets were grasped firmly, almost brutally, in both her hands. She appeared to be holding onto the cloth for dear life. All the color drained from her cheeks, her face turning a ghostly white, before she at last spoke, "If this is hard on me I can only imagine how it has been for Ron." Her voice was low and raspy giving the impression that it was hard for her to get the words out.  
  
Sadness showed in Dumbledore's eyes. "It has been difficult for him to bear." The smile that just a few seconds before was displayed across the lively man's lips was abruptly inverted into a frown. It did not in any way suit this animated wizard. His fingers were no longer interested in tangling themselves in the white beard but instead were folded securely in his lap. "He has always hoped for your safe return and as such, he has never had any kind of closure." The flicker in Dumbledore's eyes returned, "But when he finds out you are alive and well he will be the happiest wizard on Earth."  
  
This did not cheer Hermione up in the slightest. "I am not the same girl he fell in love with," she retorted in a hoarse murmur. "I have been living as Hollie for eight months and for four months prior to that I was in a coma." The volume, enunciation and irregularity in her voice were increasing with every word she spoke. Finally, she screamed, "I just don't remember!" She was in a state of sheer panic. The tears could not be held back any longer and as they swept silently and swiftly down both cheeks they began to soak the simple nightshirt she wore. Her small hands tried in vain to cover every inch of her stricken face from view. The immensity and emptiness of the room caused her cries and sobs to echo off the walls, so instead of hearing one person's anguish it was increased tenfold. The heaving of her chest was painful for the old wizard to endure.  
  
"It will come back to you," Dumbledore soothed. "Just give it time. You only need one thing to happen that will trigger your memories. Have a little faith." He leaned over and rubbed her back gently. When her tears had ceased and her breathing returned to normal he spoke again. "I think that is enough talking for this evening," he said with finality. They had in fact done so for nearly three hours. It was now five o'clock and being winter, the sun was nearly completely set. Wiping the last remnants of her weakness off her cheeks she was regaining her composure when Dumbledore's next statement took her completely off guard, "You should get a few more hours sleep before Ron and Harry arrive."  
  
Her moist eyes widened and her jaw clenched stiffly making it difficult for her to speak. "You mean they are coming here! Tonight!" She could feel beads of sweat forming on her brow and her heartbeat was racing wildly in her chest. Her hands moved to her bushy locks in a futile attempt to flatten her hair. Hermione took deep, calming breaths as she twisted her Hogwarts class ring around her finger.  
  
"Professor Snape is going to bring them to Hogwarts to see you," he smiled. "Along with your parents, Sirius and the rest of the Weasley family. We wanted to wait to assess how much you recalled before you were flooded with elated, but curious, family members."  
  
"B-b-but," she stuttered. "I l-l-look horrible. What time are they ar-r- riving? I would like to freshen up a bit first." Her hands roamed over her blotchy cheeks and swollen eyes to her frizzed out hair. Hermione's eyes trained themselves on the nightshirt she wore. There was no way she would allow them to see her for the first time in a year looking in such a state.  
  
Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "They will be arriving around nine. Sleep for three hours and I will make sure Madame Pomfrey wakes you. This way you will have an hour to get ready. Madame Pomfrey will take you to the Gryffindor tower common room where you will be meeting them. Maybe being there will help you recall your past." He turned and walked to the door of the ward. "Have sweet dreams!" he declared before he closed the door tightly behind him and vanished.  
  
She lay down in her bed, heart pounding wildly, confident that sleep would evade her with the news that in a few short hours she would be seeing the people her prior identity had called family. Hermione watched Madame Pomfrey reemerge from her office carrying a goblet over to her side. "This is a sleeping draft. With all the talking you and Dumbledore have been doing I'm sure you have a lot running around in that brain of yours." The medi-witch smiled expectantly at the young woman. "I thought this might be of some use."  
  
"Thank you!" Hermione responded before downing the potion. She eased herself under the covers feeling the drowsiness approach. Yawning wide she thought about the two boys that had meant the world to her in her previous life and whether they would ever mean that much to her again. Closing her heavy lids she effortlessly drifted off into a dreamless sleep. 


	8. The Uninvited Guest

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Thank you to all of my faithful reviewers. I appreciate the encouragement and constructive criticism. Following with some suggestions I will not go into as much detail with the events that occurred during the first four books.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!  
  
Chapter 8: The Uninvited Guest  
  
The night had brought little sleep to Ron. Not only was his mind full of thoughts that could not be pushed aside, but the snoring of Harry, Sirius and Charlie, with whom he was sharing his room, was earsplitting. Since Mrs. Weasley was very stern about men and women not sharing rooms in her home until they were properly wed the sleeping arrangements were rather unusual. Fred and Angelina were staying with George and Alicia in the twin's old room while Bill and Fleur occupied Bill's bedroom. Percy and Penelope spent the nights in Percy's room while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, of course, had their own room. Hailie and Ginny slept that night in Ginny's room but after the Grangers arrive they were to be moved into the living room to sleep on conjured up cots giving the married couple the luxury of privacy.  
  
He spent most of the night tossing and turning or rolling over one of the other three to get them to quiet down, with little to no success. Ron got very accustomed to staring at his ceiling, watching the former Chudley Cannons' players dozing on their broomsticks, floating up and down due to their rhythmic breathing. 'Must be nice,' Ron thought, 'to not have a care in the world.'  
  
At long last some rays of the sun were filtering through the closed shades and danced across the sleeping wizards' faces. It looked eerie to Ron because the light seemed to be brightest around Harry's lightning bolt scar. There was still so much that was not known about that scar and it was good for Ron's thoughts to stray to that and off of Hermione for a change.  
  
Very little time had past when the whole house was awake and on the move. The lavatory was never vacant, as soon as one person finished with the facilities there was always another person waiting outside for their turn. The smells of breakfast were wafting through the entire house beckoning them downstairs. When Ron had finally sauntered into the kitchen, being the last with bathroom privileges, most of the family was shoveling their food into their mouths at a feverish pace, barely chewing or savoring any of the tasty cuisine. The majority of them were out of view before Ron even finished filling his plate from the various platters. Only Ginny was left in the kitchen, and that was only because she was on clean up duty. It was obvious she was avoiding his quizzical glances and kept herself focused on the task at hand. He could sense his family's desire to avoid him. Not that they were doing it in a malicious way, they just knew he needed time by himself after the emotional train ride he rode on the day before.  
  
Deciding to help his family feel more at ease he stayed in his room the rest of the afternoon, completely skipping lunch. The only person he came in contact with was Harry who had brought him up a corned beef sandwich that his mum made. 'She knows I hate corned beef,' he thought but chose to not say anything, leaving it on the windowsill. Besides, his stomach was tight and in his opinion he would not be able to keep it down in any case. He would just wait and have a large meal for supper.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Dinnertime rolled around and he heard a knock on the front door. If he thought his stomach was tight earlier it was nothing compared to what it was like now. He knew who would be on the other side and he had no desire to come face to face with them, now, or ever. Ron was also aware that his mum had a wicked temper and if he did not go downstairs to greet the guests he would be in for an extremely intense row, which would only remind him more of Hermione.  
  
He chanced a look in the mirror and was surprised to see his fiery red hair was actually neat for a change and his blue shirt made him look less ashen. With a heavy heart, he arrived at the front of the house only to realize that no one had reacted to the knocking yet. He took a deep breath, opened the door and was swallowed up in a hug by Mrs. Granger. This was strange because Mrs. Granger was around the same size as Hermione and Ron towered over both women. Nonetheless, she had the tall wizard rapped firmly in her arms making him look smaller than normal. "It was so good of you to invite us. We just wouldn't be able to endure Christmas alone."  
  
Ron knew that they had spent many Christmases alone while he had attended Hogwarts. He knew this because he and Hermione had often stayed for the occasion to keep Harry company, not wanting to leave their best friend to celebrate the special holiday by his lonesome. He figured that then at least they knew their daughter was alive and well and these days they could only hope and pray she was safe. "Its good to see you, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Happy Christmas!" It was half-hearted but the Granger's took no notice. The whole house arrived to say hello and Ron watched as Mrs. Granger released him and embraced his mum, both women breaking down into frightful sobs. 'This is going to be a long two days,' he thought.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
The Weasley's kitchen was full to the brim with the large food covered table, eighteen people seated in eighteen chairs, and the five little ones in their highchairs or booster-seats that Harry had enlightened them to from the muggle world.  
  
Mrs. Weasley had prepared yet another remarkable meal. With three fat, roast turkeys, mountains of roast and boiled potatoes, three platters of chipolatas, tureens of buttered peas, two silver boats full of thick, rich gravy and two with cranberry sauce the tabletop was practically invisible. She made a Flaming Christmas pudding for dessert, which at that time was being tossed across the room by Fred and George. Some were inclined to partake in the eggnog while others preferred to try the various wines. Alicia, being pregnant, stuck to the cold pumpkin juice the children were enjoying. When dinner had ended everyone was stuffed and the table was nearly empty of the large platters that had first appeared on it just two hours earlier.  
  
Mrs. Weasley busied herself clearing the plates with a flick of her wrist while Ginny took care of the silverware. Angelina put away the goblets and Hailie ordered a sponge to scrub down the tabletops. Penelope directed the broom around the room cleaning up the mess the children made on the floor, not to mention Fred and George with the flying pudding, and Fleur carefully put away the leftovers knowing that late night trips to the kitchen were a Weasley men Christmas custom. Alicia was seated with her swollen feet raised on the chair across the table.  
  
Meanwhile, the men made their way into the living room. Ron and Harry occupied themselves in a heated match of wizard's chess while Fred, George, Charlie and Bill were enjoying a loud and competitive game of exploding snap. Percy was energetically reading a Christmas story to the brood and Mr. Weasley and Sirius were dozing on the large comfy chair and sofa respectively.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
It was tradition in the Weasley home that after supper ended everyone would open one present, the children would be tucked away in bed and the rest of the house would busy themselves with getting the presents situated under the tree and enjoying the quiet time. So, when the dinner mess was all cleaned up, the games of wizard's chess and exploding snap had been won, and story time finished, the entire household sat in a semi-circle around the tree in the living room. One present each was given to little George, Harry, Annabelle, Ron and Molly. Of course for most of the kids the parents helped them open the presents.  
  
George and Harry both opened their gifts from Uncle Ron. It was a surprise to no one that they received Chudley Cannons' paraphernalia. Both were given posters of the team, each showed the current players zooming in and out of the picture as three of them passed the quaffle back and forth, one did flips and twirls hitting the quaffle away from the three hoops, two were circling the quidditch pitch hitting the bludgers, and one was in search of the ever-elusive golden snitch. They both also got a model of Harry, who, by now, had been seeker for the Chudley Cannons for several years. The model was the spitting image of him down to his lightning bolt scar and emerald green eyes. Its black hair was sticking up in the back just as the real Harry's hair was doing at that moment. Neither boy would put his figure down for a second, and later that night they ended up sleeping with it cradled in their little arms. Angelina thanked Ron for the thoughtful gifts and Fred took the opportunity to make a crack about his sons' room becoming the same violent shade of orange that Ron's old bedroom exhibited. Ron chortled, "What is wrong with orange, I bought one of those for my room in the flat as well."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and cut in, "As long as those posters stay in YOUR room." The room exploded in snorts and chuckles, all being only too aware that even though Harry's uniform was orange he hated the color with a passion. Once everyone controlled their emotions they continued on with the presents.  
  
Annabelle opened her gift from Uncle Charlie to discover a book that would be difficult for a ten year old to read. Since she was Percy's child she was not any normal witch and being well advanced for her young age Charlie thought she would like the challenge. She wrapped her tiny arms around Charlie and thanked him giving him a kiss on the cheek. When Charlie told Annabelle the gift was also from Hailie she went over to thank her as well. She spent the rest of her time downstairs on Hailie's lap reading her new book while Percy and Penelope looked on with pride.  
  
Little Ron received a small broom, a Minisweep 6 just the right size for the two year old, from Aunt Ginny. The boy was already a quidditch fan and would ride around in his dad's arms while he played with his brothers in the field out back every holiday and birthday. He could not wait to try it out and in a very short time people were diving and jumping out of his way as he whizzed around the room nearly knocking the decorated Christmas tree over on his mum. Once they had managed to get Ronnie back with his feet on the ground, Bill and Fleur allowed him to hold onto the gift with the stipulation that he would not ride it again that night and then only ride it outside. He begged his dad to play quidditch the next day so they made plans to start after breakfast. Ronnie wanted to pick teams and ended up doing a pretty decent job, especially for boy nearly three years old, with minor help from Bill. He placed his Uncles Fred, Ron and Charlie, on one team with Aunt Ginny and Hailie, beater, keeper, seeker, chaser and chaser respectively. The other team would consist of his Uncles George and Percy in the positions of beater and keeper, his dad and Aunt Angelina as chasers and Harry, of course, was to be seeker. Ronnie would also play the position of chaser on his dad's team, as well as a two year old can with the rest of the players intending to take it easy on the youngster.  
  
Last, but certainly not least, Molly was given an adorable pink robe with a white fur collar and cuffs from her Grandma and Grandpa in France. They had it made special for their first granddaughter. The robe would be able to grow along with the little witch so she could wear it for many Christmases to come. Bill and Fleur assured his parents that she would be dressed in the outfit the coming morning for the customary family pictures.  
  
After all the children had finished with their presents they were put to bed in Charlie's old room. They snuggled in under the covers while the Weasley men and Harry told stories from past Christmases. The children drifted off to sleep, content. Molly had been dozing in her crib for a while already. Young George and Harry had their Harry figures in their arms, Ronnie had his arms and legs wrapped tightly around his broomstick and Annabelle was using her book as a pillow.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Following the departure of the youngest Weasleys, it was time for the rest of the family to have their turn. Just as they were each about to pick one present to open a familiar 'pop' was heard, this time coming from the kitchen. Ron exchanged confused glances with his brothers and Harry as they rose to check out who had just apparated into the Burrow. 'Everyone we were expecting is already here,' was the thought running through most of the wizards' minds.  
  
They were shocked to find Snape standing in the kitchen. His dark hair was as greasy as ever and fell heavily onto his shoulders. His black robes billowed out around him like some sort of shadowy aura. His black eyes were not the hateful orbs they remembered from their youth, they seemed to be lively and radiant. In place of his usual sneer was a genuine smile. If it was an odd thought that Snape would even step foot in the Burrow it was even more odd that he would look happy about doing so. "I would like to address everyone in the house please," he said in a calm and even voice that was very unlike his normal tone, it sounded almost cheerful.  
  
"What do you want, Snape?" Harry asked unable to conceal the loathing evident in his voice. His face was contorted in anger and blind hatred. 'How dare he ruin our Christmas Eve!' he thought. 'As if he hadn't done enough to us while we were at school.'  
  
"As I said, Harry, I need to speak to all of you." Everyone in the room looked flabbergasted. Whenever Snape spoke to Harry malice and viciousness would always be heard. This time was different; actually, it was totally the opposite. Not only that but the potion's professor had never called Harry by his first name. He had always referred to him as 'Potter.' For some strange reason Snape seemed concerned and pleasant. It made all the men very uncomfortable to say the least and they found themselves gaping uncontrollably at the surly looking man they had always despised, and not without reason.  
  
Charlie and Bill were the first to gather their wits and ushered the group back into the living room. Small gasps could be heard from the girls as well as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Sirius took the opportunity to glare at the man he had once known as his mortal enemy. Although they had worked together to defeat Voldemort the pair never truly made amends for the incident that occurred between them while they attended Hogwarts as students; the incident that nearly cost Snape his life. The Grangers looked on, puzzled at the reactions of the rest. "Professor Snape, what are you doing here?" Ginny questioned as politely as ever. She always was respectful of any authoritative figure and that included Snape.  
  
"I am well aware of your tradition of opening one gift each on Christmas Eve. I am sorry to disturb your ritual but I would appreciate it if I could give you all my gift tonight instead," he paused. Turning his attention to Harry and Ron he continued, "Think of it as a peace offering."  
  
Whispered voices could be heard as everyone in the room was trying to make sense of what Snape had just told them and the polite way he talked. It was unnerving. "It's a trick!" Fred muttered to George.  
  
George quietly replied, "I don't trust him!"  
  
"This has to be some sort of joke," Harry said to Ron.  
  
While at the same time Ron murmured, more to himself than anyone in particular, "Gift my a**!" That was the sentiment of most the people in the crowded room.  
  
Realizing that no response would be coming anytime soon, Snape continued, "I have asked Professor Flitwick to come and keep an eye on the children." Another 'pop' emanated from the kitchen, the little charms teacher entered the room and stood behind Snape. He barely reached the waist of the tall professor and had a long white beard that touched the floor. His eyes were large and his pointed hat was perched on his bushy eyebrows. Snape continued, "I would ask that the rest of you apparate with me to Hogwarts, outside Dumbledore's office, as soon as possible."  
  
"There is no apparating on Hogwarts grounds," Ron chided. It was something he remembered Hermione telling them numerous times in their early years at the school. "Besides, as you are well aware, the Grangers are muggles and they can not apparate."  
  
"I will send the Grangers on ahead. Normally it is a rule that Hogwarts grounds are protected with a spell to eliminate the use of apparation, but it has been lifted for these couple hours so that I might bring you with all necessary speed." With that Snape flicked his wrist and the Grangers disappeared. He glanced around the room once more only to see doubt and suspicion covering their faces before he himself disapparated.  
  
All eyes turned to tiny Flitwick, he simply nodded and the room erupted in popping noises as the family apparated to Hogwarts to see what Snape had up his sleeve. 


	9. The Peace Offering

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Ok, Ok! Since I know everyone is disappointed with the delay in the reunion I am straying from my routine and posting another chapter now. There was just so much I want to get across. This is not the reunion chapter but the boys will be told that she is still alive. I hope this will hold off all you Remember junkies for a little while.  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!  
  
Chapter 9: The Peace Offering  
  
The torch lit corridor was suddenly full of people. Eighteen people, to be exact, all had their eyes trained on the back of Snape who stood in front of them. Harry could make out the statue of an extremely ugly gargoyle around the side of the surly wizard, one that he recalled quite well. This was the entrance to Dumbledore's office, where he had been taken to on numerous occasions. Not that he was repeatedly 'in trouble' while at Hogwarts; he was just constantly in danger. Snape spoke the password, "Chocolate Frog," causing the Grangers to nearly jump out of their skin as the gargoyle hopped to the side and the wall behind it split in two. A spiral staircase that was concealed by the wall was moving smoothly upward, similar to a muggle escalator. Snape motioned for the family to pass him with a movement of his arm and a nod of his head. Ron and Harry stepped onto the staircase first and rose upward in circles, higher and higher, until at last, slightly dizzy, they saw a gleaming oak door ahead, with a griffin shaped brass knocker as a finishing touch. Before they could knock on the door they heard a thud and the stifled scream of Angelina who, along with Snape, was the last onto the flight of stairs. It dawned on Harry that the wall that had opened to let them enter had closed once everyone was through leaving no trace of the hidden staircase.  
  
Ron raised his right hand hesitantly to the griffin and lifting it, rapped lightly on the door. It opened silently of its own volition and Harry and Ron entered cautiously. Harry noted that it was the same large and beautiful circular room that he remembered; complete with the same funny little noises. This office was still the most interesting one he had ever entered at Hogwarts, or elsewhere for that matter. Little puffs of smoke and whirring noises emanated from a number of curious silver instruments propped on many spindle-legged tables. The snoozing portraits of prior headmasters and headmistresses still covered the walls. Dumbledore had the same enormous, claw-footed desk under the shelf that held the shabby and tattered Sorting Hat. The very one that had placed him in Gryffindor his first day there and had saved his life in second year when he extracted Godric Gryffindor's sword to use against the basilisk. Speaking of which, the sword was also placed on the shelf next to the old dilapidated wizard's hat.  
  
Harry and Ron turned around when they heard the girls cooing. They were fussing over a crimson bird the size of a swan with a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming talons that gripped the golden perch that stood behind the door. It was Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's pet phoenix. The phoenix ignored the girls around him and rose from the perch, floating over to land on Harry's shoulder. "Hi, Fawkes," Harry said. "It has been awhile, hasn't it?" He slowly stroked the soft plumage of the handsome bird that, with the help of the Sorting Hat, was the reason he lived to see thirteen. Fawkes opened his beak to emit the most exquisite music imaginable, it was distinctive but uplifting and Harry could feel it vibrating inside his own ribs.  
  
Dumbledore and McGonagall appeared on the balcony above them and started to make their way down the steps against the wall and into the main office area where the Weasley family, the Grangers, Sirius, Harry and Snape were waiting. They both had not changed a bit from the years following Harry and Ron's days at Hogwarts. Dumbledore still had the long flowing silvery- white hair, beard and mustache. McGonagall had her black hair pulled back in the usual tight bun and both were still wearing their trademark spectacles.  
  
"Alicia, please have a seat," Dumbledore said to the very pregnant woman as he pointed to one of the few chairs in front of his desk. There were not enough chairs for everyone, but most of them wanted to stand anyway. Ginny, Angelina, Penelope, and Fleur all took the remaining seats. McGonagall stood behind Dumbledore who eased himself into his own chair, leaned his folded hands on his desk and took time to look at each person before him. Most of them had at one time been under his tutelage, whether he was just a professor or the headmaster. Severus Snape, Sirius Black, and Molly and Arthur Weasley all had been his students while he taught at Hogwarts. He had been headmaster for every one of Molly and Arthur's seven children along with Harry, Angelina, Alicia, Penelope, and Hailie. Fleur, he had met when she stayed at Hogwarts during the Tri-Wizard Tournament that cost Cedric Diggory his life and restored Voldemort to full physical strength. The only two that he had never guided were the Grangers, not surprisingly considering they are muggles, but he had taught their exceptionally talented daughter, Hermione.  
  
The guests in the office began to fidget nervously as the awkward silence filled the room and Dumbledore's eyes glided from face to face. Harry was the first to break the stillness, "Snape said that he had a peace offering to give to us. I am sure I speak for everyone when I say that we would like to get whatever it is and return to our Christmas Eve festivities. No offense meant." When it came to Snape, Harry wanted to get everything over and done with quickly. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the mention of a peace offering and had his attention redirected to Snape who looked uncomfortable being the focal point of the old man's interest. The family nodded to show their agreement with Harry's assessment of the situation.  
  
Returning his gaze to Harry he said, "Harry, I believe you are old enough to start calling Professor Snape, Severus." Snape's eyes grew large but his demeanor did not change, he was still in an astonishingly agreeable mood. "I am sure Professor McGonagall would want you to feel free to call her Minerva, and please call me Albus or Dumbledore, whichever feels more comfortable. The rest of you can as well as we are all full-fledged witches and wizards," looking towards the Grangers, "or adults, and the three of us are no longer your professors." Most of the people had a subtle blush creep over their faces with the idea of losing the long- established formalities with the lively and extremely important wizard. "As for the reason Severus asked you to come here we will be discussing that in great detail and there is no doubt in my mind that you all will be here for quite some time, some longer than others." His gaze lingered on Ron and Harry. Ron could see the familiar twinkle in those eyes that he recalled from his youthful days at Hogwarts. However, the reason they would be there at all eluded every one of them.  
  
"Professor, I mean, Albus," Harry started. It felt weird for him to be calling the wizard he considered his role model by his first name, it would definitely take some getting used to. "Why have we been asked here?"  
  
Before Dumbledore could respond, Ron interjected with what Harry had planned on questioning next. "Yeah, and why were we allowed to apparate? I know full well that is not allowed!"  
  
"Did you read that in a book, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked with half of his mouth turned up into a crooked smile with obvious amusement.  
  
Ron looked down at the floor, "No, Hermione read it in a book and told me." Dumbledore had already known that Hermione had given him that tidbit of information but this was the perfect prelude to the news he would give them. The people in the room were clearly avoiding eye contact with Ron after the direction the discussion turned.  
  
"You miss her terribly, don't you?" His eyes were caring and his expression was composed.  
  
"Yes," he replied wiping the stray tear off his cheek. He looked up at the wizard and quickly reverted the conversation back to the original one, "So, why were we allowed to apparate?"  
  
"That is fairly simple," Dumbledore mused. "I suppressed the spell on Hogwarts for the occasion because getting each of you here quickly was of the utmost importance, as I am sure Severus already told you."  
  
"What is this peace offering Snape, er, Severus was talking about?" Harry inquired as he glowered in the potion master's direction.  
  
Dumbledore turned to look at his colleague, "Severus, since you told them you had a 'peace offering' why don't you tell them why they are here."  
  
Snape left his position in the back of the room and swept to the front next to Dumbledore's desk. His cloak made it look like he was floating. He took a deep breath before he began. "It all started yesterday when the three of us were spending the day in Diagon Alley examining the books to find the ones the students would be required to buy for the various classes next term. We had stopped in for an early lunch at The Leaky Cauldron and had a pleasant conversation with the bartender there. He was very inquisitive about our schedule for the day. After lunch we returned to Flourish and Blotts to continue our research."  
  
"As fascinating as this is," Ron said sarcastically. "It does NOT answer Harry's question!"  
  
"Please be patient, Ron," Snape replied sweetly. "This background information is of great consequence."  
  
"Fine," Ron muttered, his face twisted crudely in frustration. Harry snorted with irritation. The Weasley men were all standing with folded arms anxiously waiting for Snape to get to the point. Harry was looking around the room at all the portraits of the wizards trying to keep his attention away from the potion's master. Sirius was, as always, glaring daggers at his old school mate. The women, although they were not fond of the professor, were overcome with his change in attitude and along with the Grangers were hanging on the greasy-haired man's every word.  
  
"As I was saying," Snape smiled. "A few hours later the bartender came rushing into the bookshop babbling on about someone we had to come and see. That she had come into The Leaky Cauldron and was asking questions about Hogwarts and her identity." Harry's head snapped back to Snape and then onto Ron who had turned absolutely pale. "He said she had a Hogwarts 1998 class ring and a necklace with the charm HRH." Ron's breathing became irregular and Mr. and Mrs. Granger were leaning on the chairs in front of them for support. Angelina and Penelope rose to let the Grangers take a seat confident they would collapse at any moment. Harry's hands felt clammy and as the room around him began to spin he felt the weighty phoenix leave its roost on his shoulder.  
  
"The three of us made our way to the tavern and approached the young woman. Minerva looked at her charm and was certain it was whom we thought." Snape paused for effect. "We found Hermione, alive!"  
  
Ron felt his legs give out and two arms grab him firmly around the waist. He was aware of Charlie's reassuring words in his ear but he could not make out what he was saying; there were too many thoughts running through his mind. Charlie and Bill maneuvered Ron into the chair Fleur had previously occupied. He looked from face to face and his eyes remained on Harry who had Fred and George on either side guiding him to the seat next to Ron with Sirius bringing up the rear. Harry was as white as a sheet. Ginny was behind the chair with her arms around his neck, a smile covering her lips. Percy was kneeling in front of the Grangers trying to revive Hermione's mum who had been the one to pass out at the news. His mum was crying into his dad's shoulder. Angelina, Penelope, Fleur and Hailie were all around the seated Alicia whispering back and forth to one another looking in high spirits.  
  
Ron decided that he needed to know more. He had to know if this was real and not a dream, a marvelously wonderful dream. "W-w-w-where h-h-has she b- been?" he stuttered.  
  
McGonagall was the person to answer his inquiry. "Hermione has been through quite an ordeal. From what we have found out she was attacked in the alley next to The Leaky Cauldron. She was in a muggle hospital for four months, in a coma." Ron gulped and McGonagall continued. "When she awoke she had no idea who she was or anything about her life before her accident. Since the people in the hospital did not know her name they called her Hollie because of her charm and being found right before Christmas. After going through extensive physical therapy she got a small flat in London and a job at a bookstore. Hermione was having foggy dreams about her assault every night and then just two nights ago she saw the whole attack clearly. From what she told us we believe we know the identity of her assailant."  
  
Harry turned his head to see Ron's reaction; it was a mixture of happiness, guilt and anger that mirrored his own emotions. Happiness because Hermione was alive, guilt for all that she went through when he felt he should have been there to help her, and anger focused at the person who took her away from him in the first place. The rest of the people who were in the office were also experiencing a variety of feelings. "Who?" was all Harry as able to utter, but it was enough. Again, he was able to vocalize what the rest of the room desperately wanted to express.  
  
Dumbledore sighed, "That is not important at this time." He looked like he would not budge on the issue so there was no point in continuing the discussion on that course. "The important thing is to help Hermione remember her past. I have done my best to answer the questions she had earlier today. She took to drawing certain images she had from her past and I was able to tell her the significance of those things. Hermione is very eager to regain her memory."  
  
"When can we see her?" Mr. Granger asked his arm draped around the shoulders of his weak wife. He looked as if he could have jumped up at that very moment and run a mile at top speed to see his daughter again.  
  
Dumbledore answered, "It is now eight-thirty, I told Hermione to expect you at nine so for the time being you all should decide what you are going to do when you see her. I know you all want to spend time with Hermione, and I do not blame you. Once each of you has visited her I will ask that only a small group stay behind. She has been through much and I do not want her to feel overwhelmed."  
  
The group nodded to show they understood and began to discuss who would be the ones to stay. Ron and Harry were, without a doubt, top on the list and guaranteed the right to remain. To the amazement of all, Mr. and Mrs. Granger decided that they would leave once they saw and spoke to Hermione for a short while. They explained that although they missed their daughter they had not played a large role in her life for some time. Both felt that they were simply happy to know she was alive and well and would be able to get their first full night's sleep in a year.  
  
Fleur, Penelope, Angelina, Alicia, and Hailie all agreed to be among those who would leave since they were not as friendly with the young witch as were others. Bill, Charlie, Percy and Sirius also decided to leave with the women. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were both up in the air about which way they were to go. They wanted to see and speak with Hermione who was like a second daughter to them but felt weird since her real parents were not going to stay. In the end they settled on going home as well. Ginny, Fred and George were the only other people who wanted to linger at Hogwarts a while longer, but after discussing it they thought they would give Ron and Harry time alone with their best friend.  
  
Dumbledore abruptly interrupted their conversation, "I believe it is time for you to make your way to the Gryffindor common room." 


	10. One Last Battle

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Reviews are greatly appreciated and the more I get the quicker the next chapter will be posted!  
  
PLEASE KEEP REVIEWING!!!  
  
Chapter 10: One Last Battle  
  
Feeling pressure on her left shoulder and the incessant shaking of the upper half of her body, Hermione became aware of someone attempting to awaken her from her slumber. With a rush of emotions she sprang into a seated position and frantically searched the vast ward for a clock knowing she was supposed to meet her 'family' at nine o'clock sharp; there was none in sight. Her hazy glance focused on the medi-witch that gave her the sleeping potion three hours earlier. "Is it eight o'clock already?" she asked breathlessly, her heart rate needing to slow considerably with the unexpected jolt.  
  
"Yes it is, my dear," she grinned broadly at the tousle-haired witch. "The lavatory is to your right. You will find all the necessities for your shower already there. When you finish I will conjure you up an outfit that you deem appropriate and help you with whatever you need."  
  
"Oh, er, thanks," Hermione mumbled. She was taken-aback with the idea of having her attire 'conjured.' Usually she just went to her closet and found the most comfortable clothes she had, but this time she needed to look her best.  
  
Slowly she rose from the hospital bed, her legs were stiff and sore; she stretched and made her way to the facilities. Whenever she awoke from a restful night's sleep her body was reminded of the four-month slumber it had a short time ago. She would continually be sore and stiff in the morning hours from remaining still for too long. The shower had always been an unbeatable cure for her cluttered brain and aching body. The warm water soothed as it flowed over her shoulders and back, alleviating the built up tension. Her waterlogged hair pulled heavily back on her head and the water rushed over her face, removing the blotches and swollenness from around her eyes. The shampoo and conditioner smelled of the ocean and the soap had an aroma of a summer's breeze. Together the scents opened her nostrils and lightened her heart. Stepping out of the shower she pulled on a white terrycloth bathrobe that hung on a hook on the back of the door. The last thing she did in the bathroom was brush her teeth, ridding her mouth of 'morning breath' and replacing it with mint freshness.  
  
Hermione returned to the wing, making for the hospital bed where she spent the day, still wearing the bathrobe and nothing on her now freezing feet; the floor to the castle was stone and was icy to the touch. Madame Pomfrey was awaiting her arrival, "Have you thought about what you are going to wear?" she politely questioned.  
  
Of course Hermione had given this little to no thought as the water eased her problems away. Now that she did consider it, she decided to ask the medi-witch what she thought a young witch would wear to such an occasion. Madame Pomfrey was reflective for a second before muttering a spell and flicking her wrist. In a flash of red light the white terrycloth bathrobe turned into an attractive garment. The older witch picked blue colored robes that would match perfectly with how she remembered Ron's eyes to look. They were simple but dressy so the girl did not appear to have labored over her appearance. Hermione was lost for words when she looked in the full-length mirror the medi-witch provided.  
  
The only thing that could make her even happier was to tame her rapidly frizzing hair as it began to dry. As if reading her thoughts, Madame Pomfrey removed a bottle from the desk against the wall and handed it to the young witch. Hermione squeezed some Sleakeasy's Hair Potion into the palm of her hand, massaging it evenly into her tresses. The next look in the mirror made a smile creep its way along her lips. Her hair was no longer the bushy mess it had been but was an abundance of light curls that were draped over her shoulders and down her back. She thought she looked perfect. Very rarely would she apply makeup for the simple fact that her complexion allowed her to go natural and still look magnificent. Besides, she felt it was too much trouble removing the makeup at the end of the night since she still did not know how to do any spells.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Madame Pomfrey led the way to the Gryffindor Common room. Hermione was busy looking at the décor of the corridors she found herself traveling through. The suits of armor would turn their head as the two walked past and the people in the portraits were whispering with each other and running out of one picture and into the next, following them along. The halls were lit with the same type of torches that illuminated the hospital wing. The many doors they passed on either side of the corridor were open to reveal vacated classrooms. Some were cluttered with desks, cauldrons, books, strange creatures or various other objects. Hermione could not believe the things she was witnessing.  
  
Suddenly a form floated out from the wall directly ahead and glided its way to the pair of women. She did a double take to make sure she was not seeing things and found herself staring at the ghost. He was pearly-white, semi-transparent and wearing tights and a large ruff around his neck. Her heart fluttered as he stopped to float directly in front of her. "Madame Pomfrey, who is this beautiful witch with you?" he questioned politely.  
  
"Why, Sir Nicholas," she began, sounding quite stunned. "I would have thought for sure you would remember such an important Gryffindor!" She raised one eyebrow at the bobbing spirit and turned the left side of her mouth up into an uneven smile.  
  
Sir Nicholas allowed his eyes to travel up and down the girl who was standing before him looking uncomfortable under his inquisitive gaze. He tilted his head to the side, too far, and it swung off his neck to rest on his shoulder. The young witch shrieked at the sight and clamped her hand over her mouth. Sir Nicholas' eyes widened and he pulled on his right ear to maneuver his head back onto his neck. Coughing slightly he spoke, "Hermione Granger! How could I forget you? I would know that shriek anywhere!" He smiled broadly. "When did you get back young lady? And you should be used to my head flopping over!"  
  
He watched her expectantly and saw her eyes train themselves on the floor. Madame Pomfrey noticed the awkward silence setting in and quickly answered Sir Nicholas, "She arrived here last night and is making her way to the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Ron and Harry after a year of being apart." The medi-witch could tell that the Gryffindor ghost was confused. She sighed and rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Hermione was missing and she has amnesia." She quickly grabbed the arm of the witch guiding her past the embarrassed spirit.  
  
After what seemed an eternity the pair stopped in front of a portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress. Hermione gaped at the woman in the picture as she spoke, "Password?"  
  
Madame Pomfrey did not even blanch and replied, "Animagus." The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. The woman motioned for Hermione to continue through the entrance wishing her luck.  
  
On the other side of the wall was a large round room filled with red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture. As soon as she saw this room she knew why she had picked these colors for her bedroom in the flat. There was a huge fireplace off to her right that was already a blaze giving the room a welcoming glow. Feeling the gentle breeze on her back caused by the portrait entrance closing behind her she made her way over to sit in one of the armchairs facing the fire, finding it incredibly comfortable. The warmth of the fire made her drowsy and she began to nod off.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
*Looking to her right she saw an elderly man with white hair and beard that she knew to be Professor Dumbledore, a surly looking man she recognized as Professor Snape and a young man of eighteen with a pale pointed face and blonde hair who looked mysteriously familiar. A redheaded girl that looked around sixteen had the arm of the teen next to her, a raven-haired boy of maybe eighteen with a scar on his forehead, hugging her waist. The boy with the scar stood precisely to her right. Turning her attention to her left there were three more people. These included a woman with a tight bun that she recognized as Professor McGonagall and a man with black hair and aged eyes. A tall redheaded teen of around the same age as the first two boys had his arm draped protectively over her shoulders. All of the people, including herself, had a wand firmly grasped in one of their hands.  
  
Curiosity getting the better of her she removed her eyes from the grim faces of the people beside her and onto her surroundings. She was still in the Gryffindor common room, only, it was different. The red squashy armchairs and dark wooden furniture were either overturned, on fire or busted into smithereens. The windows were open allowing a cold breeze to whip the fire from one item to another. Slung over one of the overturned armchairs was what appeared to be a body, at least it had been at one time. What was left of it was charcoal black and continued to smolder. The same was true for the two forms on either staircase. At least three people were dead!  
  
For the first time she noticed the trio standing in front of the group, each holding a wand. The man on the very left was wheezing uncontrollably. He was skinny and pale and she could see a finger missing from the hand clutching his wand that was shaking wildly. The man on the far right made her heart skip a beat. He had the same long blonde hair as the man who erased her memory. It was her attacker! To her surprise his attention was not focused on her but on the blonde boy directly opposite him. It dawned on her that the reason the blonde teen looked familiar was because he was the customer she had at the bookstore a few months prior. They 'were' father and son, only the son was fighting for the same side for which she fought. Looking into the face of the man in the middle made her blood run cold. Instead of her heart skipping a beat it felt as if her heart had stopped completely. He was thin, his fingers and face were whiter than a skull and to top it off he had the blood red eyes of a cat. His nose was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils. This man was terrifying!  
  
As if on cue, the room erupted in a multitude of voices, all screaming various spells, hexes and curses at the wizards and witches before them. Hermione saw Dumbledore collapse to the floor, twitching madly and screaming in pain. At nearly the same time the wheezing man was shot backwards, slamming forcefully into the wall. He slid down to the floor leaving a thick track of blood behind.  
  
She watched the raven-haired teen begin to writhe in agony, clutching at the lightening scar on his forehead shielding it from view. He fell to his knees arching his back as the pain overtook his body. She saw the blood red eyes of the evil man before him boring their way through his head. The redheaded girl sunk to her knees as well, cradling the thrashing boy in her arms as best she could. It was evident she was whispering calming words in his ear as his body began to settle once again. The blonde teen stepped in front of the pair, protecting them from the wizard's gaze. He looked determined. His lips were taut and thin and he narrowed his eyes to make himself look more menacing. The only sense of wavering came in the form of his shaky hand. The one that held his wand was steady but the one at his side, in plain view of her, was trembling uncontrollably without his knowledge or permission.  
  
There was no way for her to make out the words he spoke, but the wizard flung a curse at the blonde boy causing him to be lifted off the ground, his limbs stretching out to form a large X. He began shrieking as it became apparent that the spell was attempting to pull his limbs out of their sockets. Following a hideous popping noise and an agonizing scream she watched as his left arm dropped to his side, after being forcefully dislocated. Snape hurled a spell at the boy causing the pulling on his limbs to cease. The teen fell from the air into the arms of the surly wizard. Although he was weakened physically, there was no quenching his desire or determination. He conjured a sling in which to place his useless arm. Within no time he was back flinging hexes at the trio. While the evil wizard was cursing the blonde boy, the raven-haired teen was able to collect himself and resume his part in the battle.  
  
She seemed to be frozen to her spot as if she were simply a spectator and not a real participant in the events unfolding. The realization that merely being a bystander was incorrect came only too soon. She felt the arm of the redheaded boy slip off its perch and saw him tense, turning towards her pointing the wand at her face. His face was utterly impassive; she could see no feelings at all present there. Confusion and fear besieged all of her emotions. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it quickly. He seemed to be using all his strength to keep his jaw clenched shut. The wrist of his right hand, the one holding the wand he was pointing at her, was constantly moving mechanically in the swish and flick movement she had been taught. He never once blinked. Suddenly his mouth dropped open, emitting a noise similar to the release of a suction cup, only to abruptly close again. This repeated several more times before his eyes fluttered and he shook his head as if he were awaking from a bad dream. He looked at her disbelievingly for a moment. His eyes were wide and distressed. He then turned back around to face the enemy without saying a word.  
  
An overwhelming urge overcame her when she found herself facing the vile wizard once more. She raised her wand, pointing it at the snake-like man. Out of the corners of her eyes she could see the redheaded boy and raven- haired teen doing the same thing. At precisely the same time the three shouted "Avada Kedavra" and three identical jets of green light hit the man in the chest sending him hurling at the wall. As he was flying through the air she watched in perplexity as his body began to disintegrate. Within seconds he was gone. Under the path he had flown lay a trail of ashes, his ashes. That was all that remained of the dreadful wizard.  
  
McGonagall rushed over to Dumbledore's side and helped him to his feet. The blonde teen and redheaded girl rushed forward to the wizard that was slumped on the ground leaning against the bloody wall, unconscious. The boy cast a spell, shouting, "Petrificus Totalus." This caused the man's arms to snap to his side, his legs to spring together, his whole body going rigid. He began to lean to the side and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board, exposing his cracked head to full view. The raven-haired boy warily removed the wand from the trail of ashes covering the castle floor. Snape and the other black haired man tried to corner the wizard with the long blonde hair but as they cautiously approached him, wands drawn, something unexpected happened. The blonde wizard leapt for the open window and disappeared. Snape lunged for the man with no avail; he had escaped.  
  
Feeling eyes staring at her she turned to see the redheaded teen teary and frowning. He was moving his mouth again as if he wished to speak only this time his face was not emotionless but was instead full of concern. He kept running his hand nervously through his fiery tresses. After an eternity he finally found words. "Hermione," his voice was low and quivering. "I didn't mean it. I would never intentionally hurt you. I fought it with all my might." He seemed desperate for her to understand. "You have to believe me!" *  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Hermione," she heard the young man say again. She could tell it was the same person only the voice was deeper, closer.  
  
"I believe you, Ron!" she uttered in response.  
  
Hearing numerous gasps her body jumped slightly, leaving the cushy armchair for a second. Her heart pounding vigorously behind her ribs she hesitantly opened her eyes only to be staring at a sea of faces. 


	11. Tears of Joy

I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
I would like to apologize for the long wait. As I mentioned before I had computer problems then got side tracked with different things over the summer. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I appreciate all the reviews I have received, they are the reason I am posting this chapter. I'm not sure if this will be the end of the story or not. I guess it really depends on if people want to know more.  
  
Chapter 11: Tears of Joy  
  
The walk through the corridors to the Gryffindor common room was eerily quiet and seemed to be taking an eternity. No one spoke for the sheer fact that they could not come up with anything to say. When they had turned the corner that would place them in the hallway the common room entrance was located, Harry accidentally walked through Nearly Headless Nick. Ron was able to stop just short of doing the same thing.  
  
"Well, tonight has certainly turned out to be splendid!" The resident Gryffindor ghost beamed. "First I get to see Hermione again, and now Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys." He floated along the front of the group, eyeing each person. His gaze lingered on Fred and George. "I do hope you will not be playing any pranks on me this evening. I don't want it to be ruined." He gave the twins a quick wink and they winked back at their favorite spirit.  
  
"You saw Hermione?" Ron queried, his voice soft and full of enthusiasm. He was not really looking at the ghost, but it was more like he was looking through him, as he was deep in his own world.  
  
"Yes I did, lad!" Sir Nicholas replied. "She was on her way to the common room to meet you when our paths crossed. She looks marvelous, I might add." He was looking between the curious faces. "Now hurry along. Never keep a lady waiting!"  
  
The Weasleys, Harry, Sirius and the Grangers continued on and in no time discovered that they were standing before the fat lady. She was still wearing the pink silk dress that all of them remembered her having worn in their time at Hogwarts. Hearts were beating ferociously behind their ribs and their breathing was loud and irregular. Ron and Harry appeared to have stopped breathing altogether in anticipation of seeing Hermione again. The fat lady broke the tension when her eyes ceased movement and she promptly fainted.  
  
Angelina was attempting to rouse the woman while the rest of the group was discussing the reason the fat lady might have for passing out. After a few minutes Angelina successfully revived the woman who groggily returned to her post. Penelope asked, "Are you alright?"  
  
Even though she was just a 'picture' she looked pale and frightened, they even thought she might faint again. The woman placed her hand on her brow and replied, "I'm fine dear," she paused. "I just wish I would never have to see that man again," she said while she pointed at Sirius.  
  
All eyes turned to Sirius who looked very uncomfortable. He cleared his throat before responding, "I don't know how many times I have to apologize for cutting up your portrait before you'll forgive me?" He seemed impatient. "I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you." Running his hand through his black hair he finished, "We are in a bit of a hurry, if you don't mind?"  
  
Looking fairly less ashen and avoiding the gaze of Sirius she spoke once more, "Password?"  
  
Mr. Weasley stepped forward to reply. "Animagus," he stated. The portrait swung forward revealing the familiar opening to the common room. Harry was the first to enter with Ron close at his heels. Harry caught sight of the witch asleep in the armchair in front of the fireplace and hastily stopped in his tracks causing Ron to collide with his back.  
  
"Harry, what the bloody," Ron started but abruptly lost the ability to speak as his eyes moved from the shocked face of his best friend to the small figure swallowed up in the large chair. Although he knew he was there to visit her, the reality of it did not sink in until she was in his sight. She looked beautiful and peaceful as she silently slept, unaware of their presence. Her legs were curled up under her body, her head was leaning back and slightly to the right against the backrest and her slim arms were crossed over her middle. Her hair was in the begins of changing from the elegant curls that were draped lightly over her shoulders to the bushy mass that he loved so much caused by rubbing against the back of the chair. She was wearing the most magnificent set of blue robes he had ever seen, they were even more stunning than the set she wore to the Yule Ball in their fourth year of school. Then again, it might have just been the fact that it was the first time he had seen her in a year. Either way, he never thought she looked better.  
  
As the two made their way over to Hermione, with the rest of the family following close behind, Ron's eyes began to mist over. He could smell the sweet aroma permeating from her body; she smelled like the beach. Breathing her scent deeply for a few moments he stood there reflecting on how this past year had been so wrong. There was no doubt in his mind that he was meant to spend his life with Hermione and there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. Snapping out of his reverie Ron's hand slowly made its way to her shoulder but before he could make contact he pulled it sharply back. Thinking things through he decided that whispering to her would be a better way for her to wake up instead of to forceful shaking. He leaned close to her ear and softly uttered, "Hermione."  
  
She stirred somewhat in her sleep when he spoke, moaning softly. "I believe you, Ron!" she said shyly, closing her lids even tighter. His breath caught at the same time the rest of the room gasped. He rapidly stood straight, taking an involuntary step backwards as what she uttered had time to sink into his mind. She had been dreaming, dreaming about him; remembering him! 'Is it possible?' he thought. 'That she has her memory back!' This was all more than he could handle and he turned to look at Harry for some support only to find that Harry was just as taken-aback as him.  
  
Harry watched as Hermione's body jerked at the gasps and her eyes fluttered open. The haziness disappeared after she blinked a few times and slowly shifted her gaze from face to face, no recognition apparent. He saw her swallow and her eyes lock with his own. Her lips turned upward into a telltale smile. "You must be Harry," she said with complete calm as if she did not have a care in the world. He returned her smile but was disappointed that although she knew his name she only did because of the description she had been given.  
  
"I am," he replied. "It is great to see you, Hermione!" He could no longer take just standing there, gaping at the woman he considered his best friend, his best friend that had gone missing one year ago. Harry rushed forward engulfing Hermione in a hug that removed her from her seated position, swinging her in circles in the air. "I've missed you!" he mumbled into her now bushy locks. She did not respond. He set her onto her feet, gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped back. He was glad to see that she was still grinning broadly and the redness of her rosy cheeks was beginning to intensify.  
  
Her gaze drifted off of Harry and onto the girl standing next to him. She had blazing hair and a piercing stare. This was one of the teenagers that were present in the dream from which she just woke. She was the one who had consoled Harry while he was lying on the floor in agony. The only difference being that she no longer appeared to be a young sixteen but she was instead somewhere around twenty. "This is Ginny," Harry declared. "She is your best girl friend." Hermione smiled at the witch who was eyeing her every move. Ginny guardedly ambled towards her friend, gingerly placing her arms around the young woman. Hermione felt droplets hitting her shoulders and she realized that Ginny was crying. Even though she hardly knew the person she was embracing, she felt like she could tell Ginny anything.  
  
"You look wonderful, Hermione!" Ginny cried. Her chest was heaving more and more as the sobs overtook her body. Hermione did not know how to respond so she remained silent. Although she had just seen this girl in her dream she did not remember anything about her or their friendship. She simply hugged the girl in return and tried to cease her crying.  
  
When Ginny had released her from the embrace Hermione observed two identical wizards with flaming red hair to her right. Harry noticing where she was looking informed her of the identity of the two. "These are Fred and George, practical jokers to the end, and their wives Angelina and Alicia. They were all at Hogwarts with us."  
  
Hermione nodded and decided the mood needed to be lightened. Feeling that if she repeated something Dumbledore told her about the twins then the people in the room might feel more comfortable. "So these are the two who give phony spells to people," she smirked. It worked; the twins snickered and squashed her into a Hermione sandwich. She could not help giggling at the situation and she could hear the rest of the people laughing as well. When the twins had freed her from between them, both simultaneously giving her a kiss on opposite cheeks, Angelina and Alicia then took their turns greeting their old housemate. Both the witches had broad smiles across their face and commented on how good Hermione looked before returning to their husbands' sides.  
  
Her eyes drifted to the people standing behind the twins' wives. There were three more redheaded men who appeared older than the ones she previously met. As her eyes fell on more and more fiery haired men she wondered when it would turn out to be Ron. With them were three women, one with long, curly hair, the second was blonde and quite attractive, and the third was tall with short, brown hair. Harry presented them to her, "These blokes are Bill, Percy and Charlie. Penelope is married to Percy, Fleur to Bill and Hailie is Charlie's girlfriend."  
  
Her heart sunk. 'Maybe Ron did not come,' she thought. 'Maybe he found someone else to love, it has been a year after all.' Hermione said hi but did not recall, nor had she been told, anything about them. They each gave her a genuine smile and a quick embrace.  
  
Harry continued, "I'd like to introduce you to my Godfather." He motioned to the older black-haired wizard on his other side. His eyes seemed to reveal that he had seen things that no person should. They made him look older than did his physical appearance.  
  
Hermione interrupted him, "Sirius." She remembered Dumbledore telling her the name of Harry's godfather. He was the black-haired wizard from her most recent dream.  
  
"How did you know?" Sirius questioned, his curiosity getting the better of him.  
  
Hermione grinned, "Dumbledore told me about you when he was explaining the sketches I draw." Sirius cocked an eyebrow, not sure how to interpret the meaning of her reply. He had no clue why anything she would draw, or remember, would have anything to do with him. Shaking off his thoughts he gave Hermione a small hug. When he had released her, she looked back to Harry to carry on with the introductions.  
  
"These two," he pointed to the people to Sirius's left, "are Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They are like our second family." They beamed at the girl they loved as if she were their own daughter. She looked almost identical to what she looked like a year ago, the only change being that she looked slimmer than she had been prior to her disappearance. They thought that had to be natural with the stress of not knowing your own identity. Mrs. Weasley was weeping as she embraced the witch. Mr. Weasley patted her back consolingly when he had his turn, more for his own benefit than hers, wanting to feel her to be sure she was real.  
  
Suddenly two people made their way to the front of the group. The man was not tall but he was certainly not small either, with short brown, wavy hair. The woman with him was the same height as she was and had bushy chestnut hair similar to her own. The instant she laid eyes on them she knew without a doubt that these two had to be her parents. Her mom's eyes glazed over as she approached her daughter. "Her-r-mione?" she queried; having to be certain it was her child. A simple nod was all she needed and within a matter of seconds there was no way to distinguish between them as they were intertwined so completely. Her father placed an arm over each of the two most important women in his life, finishing off the family hug. Hermione sobbed softly, not because she had missed her parents, but because the people hugging her so tightly meant nothing to the young woman. She did not remember the good times they had when she was little, the fascinating trips and vacations they took, the activities they did together or the special holidays they had spent with each other. There was just nothing to draw from. Although that was true, she felt a warm place in her heart because they seemed to care about her a great deal. All of this began to take its toll on the young witch.  
  
Unexpectedly she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder. She spun out of the embrace of her parents only to find herself in the arms of a tall wizard. They encircled her waist making her feel warm inside and completely safe. They were the same ones from the dream she loved so much; these were Ron's arms. She allowed her own arms to surround his neck, resting them daintily on his shoulders and her head on his muscular chest. Her body fit with his so perfectly that she felt as if they could have been specifically made for each other. She breathed in his scent to discover he smelled of baby powder. This confused her because she had no idea why he would be anywhere near baby powder. "Ron!" she murmured into his torso. She felt him inhale deeply before taking a step back, removing the warmth from her body. She realized that she was staring into the misty eyes of the wizard she supposedly loved. Although he was smiling, the happiness did not appear to reach his eyes. They were full of longing, an aching for her to say she remembered him.  
  
"Y-you remember m-me?" he stuttered. Her heart soared as he spoke. She did not want to disappoint him but although she recognized his arms, his smile, his voice, she did not recall anything about their past together.  
  
"I, er," she knew that she had to say this the right way. She could hear the people behind her moving around as they exited the common room but she did not take the time to look; she was too focused on the tousle-haired redhead. Harry still remained at her side, they were the only three left in the immense circular room. Both men were looking at her intently. She directed her eyes to the floor. "My dreams are the only times I remember anything about my past, and even then it is unclear. I tend to be a spectator, watching what occurred. I sometimes have a particular dream about a boy who places his hands over my eyes and I spin around to find his arms around me tightly. He had red hair but I never saw a face," she paused and glanced up Ron's way for a split second. She knew only too well that he was the fiery boy that stole her heart. "Almost every night I dream about the attack that cost me my memories." Breathing became difficult for her but she continued on anyway. "But just a little while ago I had a vivid dream about this room. We were here with Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape. I recognized Sirius and Ginny as being two of the three other people that were there. The only one I can't put a name to is a pale, blonde boy," she paused and a smile formed over her lips. "I finally saw your faces!" she said with tremendous enthusiasm.  
  
She did not know whether to continue or to let them have the chance to speak. She could feel the tension in the air and decided to break the silence that was deafening. "Dumbledore told me the significance of the drawings I have been doing and that the majority of them pertain to the two of you. He said that I sketch broomsticks and lightning bolts because of Harry." She lifted her eyes to Harry's and noticed that he was grinning; she assumed she said something right. "And that the tiny owl and knight piece that I draw has to do with Ron." Hermione switched her gaze from Harry to Ron. He was also smiling broadly. She had only one question on her mind at that moment, "What happens now?"  
  
The boys exchanged mystified glances. They had not discussed what they would talk to Hermione about when they were left alone. Most of the time in Dumbledore's office was occupied with deciding who would stay behind. Finally, the wizards knew they had to respond soon so Harry replied. "Now," he hesitated, "we get to know each other again!" 


	12. Old Friends

Sorry for the delay. Hope you enjoyed the story.  
  
I do not own Harry Potter. This is my own idea. All rights are reserved to JK Rowling  
  
Chapter 12:  
  
Laughter echoed off the walls and high ceilings of the Gryffindor common room giving the sensation that there was ten times the amount of people present than in actuality. Only three people occupied the vast circular room. They were each seated in their own large red squashy armchair that they had situated in a semicircle around the huge fireplace, which was dying down. The two young wizards flanked the witch their same age on either side.  
  
Hermione's hair was a bushy mass that resembled the tresses she had during her school years. Her legs were curled underneath her body and covered with her delicate blue robes. A red and gold striped quilt encircled her shoulders and was held in the front by her small hands to keep the damp winter chill away. On her left was Harry, the wizard who was supposed to be one of her best friend. His raven colored hair was in utter disarray and the dark green robes he wore were askew. The back of the chair was being used to prop his head into an upright position. His legs were concealed with a red afghan that had a gold lion in the center. Throwing the blanket off to the side, he rose and made his way to the large fireplace. Picking up a poker and two more logs he returned the fire to its original fury. On her right-hand side was her other alleged best friend, Ron. His legs were crossed in front of him and his head leaned on the backrest of the chair. His trademark Weasley hair was just as chaotic as Harry's and his large hands held firmly to each other in his lap. The blue eyes numerous witches adored were trained on the only one he ever loved.  
  
"So," she giggled, "I actually smacked him!" She could not believe the things they told her, it was even more amazing than what Professor Dumbledore alluded to earlier. Harry and Ron had been telling her about their first few years at Hogwarts for hours. They had just told her about her 'attack' on Draco Malfoy in their third year when he insulted Hagrid and Buckbeak.  
  
Both wizards were snickering loudly. "Yeah," Ron said between sniggers, "Malfoy didn't know what hit him. It was great!" His laughter abruptly froze and his face was ablaze when he noticed Hermione's eyes focused on him. He decided to change the topic of discussion. He and Harry, after all, had been talking frenziedly for the past few hours and Hermione had thus far avoided any and all discourse concerning her recent life. "What have you been up to this past year?" he posed.  
  
Hermione looked uncomfortable. She was enjoying hearing about her childhood very much and had not expected to have to tell them about her life for a while yet. "What do you want to know?" she responded.  
  
Harry could tell that she would only tell them things they asked her. While he was repositioning himself in the plush chair he questioned, "Well, how long were you in the hospital?"  
  
Hermione was thoughtful for a second before replying, "From what Adam told me I was there for four months but I was only awake for a week. I went through extensive physical therapy for that week before I left the hospital. Adam was able to get donations from the other nurses and rented me a flat for a month and got me a job at Book Classics. I still go to the hospital regularly to continue my therapy." She was tracing her fingers gently over the small, hardly noticeable scar on her left temple while she talked. Even just explaining the story made her head throb perpetually and her right hand lifted to clutch the charm on her necklace in a reflex action.  
  
Ron and Harry were listening intently to every word Hermione spoke and both were confused about the identity of Adam. They were not sure whether he was just someone who helped her while she was injured or if he was her friend, or maybe even more. Harry could tell that Ron thought the latter of the three and knew full well he would not be able to ask. They both watched as her fingers massaged her temple and she clung to her necklace. Harry could not help smiling as he realized that necklace was the one they gave her for graduation. "Who is Adam?" Harry politely questioned.  
  
"Oh," Hermione grinned at the thought of her friend. "Adam was the nurse who took care of me while I was in the hospital and later we became friends." She heard Ron breathe a sigh of relief. While she was stating 'and later we became' Ron listened with bated breath praying that she would not respond with lovers, a couple or any related saying. "I spent some time with his family on Sunday nights. His wife and I get along wonderfully and his kids are terrific."  
  
Ron's face visibly relaxed as Hermione explained their relationship even further. "While I was in the coma he did a lot of research to try and find my family," she hesitated. She was not certain that talking about the absence of her loved ones while she was injured was a good thing to be discussing. "His family sort of became my family." The only thing she was sure of was that she had to be honest. They were supposedly her best friends so there was no way she could lie to them.  
  
Harry and Ron both shifted uneasily in their seats while she talked about her 'new' family. They felt guilty for not being there for her when she needed them the most. There was nothing they could do to make up for their inexcusable absence. The only thing they could do was to pray they would eventually be forgiven.  
  
Harry forcefully cleared his throat, "We're so sorry, Hermione!" His eyes began to mist over and he had to turn his gaze to the high ceiling above. Ron was tearing up as well and transferred his eyes to the flickering flames in the fireplace.  
  
Hermione swallowed hard before she retorted, "You have nothing to be sorry about! There was no way you could have known I was in the hospital. As far as either of you were concerned, or the rest of the world for that matter, I was considered dead." An embarrassed hush filled the space. "I guess in a way I am," she said in a barely audible whisper that the boys were just able to distinguish. Almost immediately they veered their heads around to face the young woman who had her eyes glued to her knees. Harry and Ron's eyes had drained of all moisture but were now immersed in trepidation.  
  
"Hermione!" Ron retorted in an agitated tone. "I never want to hear you talk that bloody way again! You hear me!" His voice was low and coarse. It contained a harsh quality that was even able to frighten Harry.  
  
"Well, its true!" Hermione blubbered softly. "I'm not the same person you called your best friend. I don't do magic and I hardly recall anything prior to-t-to the at-t-tack," her voice amplified in volume and her sobs were rapidly overtaking her slim body. Her one hand stiffened its grip on the charm while the other hand tried in vain to cover her soaked face.  
  
Ron could not handle seeing her in such an atrocious state. In one swift movement he had relocated from his seat to her side, encircling her in his arms. His hands gently caressed her back trying to ease her whimpers. The hand that clutched at her throat was pinned between them and the one that was over her eyes snaked its way around his neck. She started to run her fingers through his fiery locks as her hysterics began to subside. Harry made his way over to her as well, squatted in front of her chair. He consolingly rubbed her knee in a futile attempt to minimize the hitching of her body.  
  
After a few minutes there were no sounds coming from the trio. Hermione had her head resting on Ron's chest, her body wrapped comfortably in his soothing embrace. Harry had his head placed on her shoulder, squeezing her knee and arm reassuringly every so often. The room was so quiet that they could have heard a pin drop.  
  
Reluctantly, Hermione pulled herself away from the two wizards and settled herself back into her comfortable armchair. Ron and Harry both returned to their previous positions as well. The silence was unnerving and they all knew someone had to muster the courage to speak soon.  
  
"Oh and Ron," Hermione started, a twinkle in her eye. Ron cocked an eyebrow, wondering what she would say. "Don't swear!" She giggled.  
  
Both wizards smirked at her comment. 'Some things never change!' Ron thought. "Either of you interested in a game of wizard's chess? I could conjure us up a board."  
  
"Nah," Hermione replied. "You always win anyway."  
  
Silence engulfed the room once more. Confusion was written on Ron and Harry's faces. "What do you mean?" Harry questioned.  
  
Now it was Hermione's turn to look confused. "He always wins. Harry, neither you nor I ever won one single match against him."  
  
"How would you know that?" Ron quickly asked.  
  
Hermione scrunched up her face in thought. "I, um, one of you must have told me, of course."  
  
"No we didn't!" they replied simultaneously.  
  
"Hold on!" Hermione stated. She closed her eyes. "Polyjuice potion! I turned into a cat!"  
  
Shock. Pure Shock.  
  
"That was second year, " she continued. "Goblet of Fire. Beaubatons. Durmstrang. Mad-eye Moody. Dragons. Mermaid. That was fourth year."  
  
"What - - -" Harry started, but she cut him off.  
  
"Krum. S-P-E-W, which Ron likes to call spew. Quidditch Match. Winky. That was all fourth year too."  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron managed to squeak out.  
  
"It was like what Dumbledore said would happen. It would come back." She still had her eyes closed, tears pouring down her cheeks from her closed lids. "I love you both!"  
  
She opened her eyes and looked at both of them in turn. Hastily wiped the moisture from her cheeks. She sighed, let a smile creep over her lips and stared into the fire.  
  
"I Remember!"  
  
The End 


End file.
